Sixo turns, then, to the woman and they clutch each other and whisper. She is lit now with someglowing, some shining that comes from inside her. Before when she knelt on creek pebbles withPaul D, she was nothing, a shape in the dark breathing lightly. Sixo is about to crawl out to lookfor the knives he buried. He hears something. He hears nothing. Forget the knives. Now. The threeof them climb up the bank and schoolteacher, his pupils and four other whitemen move towardthem. With lamps. Sixo pushes the Thirty-Mile Woman and she runs further on in the creekbed.
Paul D and Sixo run the other way toward the woods. Both are surrounded and tied.
The air gets sweet then. Perfumed by the things honeybees love. Tied like a mule, Paul D feelshow dewy and inviting the grass is. He is thinking about that and where Paul A might be whenSixo turns and grabs the mouth of the nearest pointing rifle. He begins to sing. Two others shovePaul D and tie him to a tree. Schoolteacher is saying, "Alive. Alive. I want him alive." Sixo swingsand cracks the ribs of one, but with bound hands cannot get the weapon in position to use it in anyother way. All the whitemen have to do is wait. For his song, perhaps, to end? Five guns aretrained on him while they listen. Paul D cannot see them when they step away from lamplight.
Finally one of them hits Sixo in the head with his rifle, and when he comes to, a hickory fire is infront of him and he is tied at the waist to a tree. Schoolteacher has changed his mind: "This onewill never be suitable." The song must have convinced him.
The fire keeps failing and the whitemen are put out with themselves at not being prepared for thisemergency. They came to capture, not kill. What they can manage is only enough for cooking hominy. Dry faggots are scarce and the grass is slick with dew.
By the light of the hominy fire Sixo straightens. He is through with his song. He laughs. A ripplingsound like Sethe's sons make when they tumble in hay or splash in rainwater. His feet are cooking;the cloth of his trousers smokes. He laughs. Something is funny. Paul D guesses what it is whenSixo interrupts his laughter to call out, "Seven-O! Seven-O!"Smoky, stubborn fire. They shoot him to shut him up. Have to. Shackled, walking through theperfumed things honeybees love, Paul D hears the men talking and for the first time learns hisworth. He has always known, or believed he did, his value — as a hand, a laborer who could makeprofit on a farm — but now he discovers his worth, which is to say he learns his price. The dollarvalue of his weight, his strength, his heart, his brain, his penis, and his future. As soon as thewhitemen get to where they have tied their horses and mount them, they are calmer, talking amongthemselves about the difficulty they face. The problems. Voices remind schoolteacher about thespoiling these particular slaves have had at Garner's hands. There's laws against what he done:
letting niggers hire out their own time to buy themselves. He even let em have guns! And youthink he mated them niggers to get him some more? Hell no! He planned for them to marry! if thatdon't beat all! Schoolteacher sighs, and says doesn't he know it? He had come to put the placearight. Now it faced greater ruin than what Garner left for it, because of the loss of two niggers, atthe least, and maybe three because he is not sure they will find the one called Halle. The sister-inlawis too weak to help out and doggone if now there ain't a full-scale stampede on his hands. Hewould have to trade this here one for $900 if he could get it, and set out to secure the breeding one,her foal and the other one, if he found him. With the money from "this here one" he could get twoyoung ones, twelve or fifteen years old. And maybe with the breeding one, her three pickaninniesand whatever the foal might be, he and his nephews would have seven niggers and Sweet Homewould be worth the trouble it was causing him.
"Look to you like Lillian gonna make it?""Touch and go. Touch and go.""You was married to her sister-in-law, wasn't you?""I was.""She frail too?""A bit. Fever took her.""Well, you don't need to stay no widower in these parts.""My cogitation right now is Sweet Home.""Can't say as I blame you. That's some spread."They put a three-spoke collar on him so he can't lie down and they chain his ankles together. Thenumber he heard with his ear is now in his head. Two. Two? Two niggers lost? Paul D thinks hisheart is jumping. They are going to look for Halle, not Paul A. They must have found Paul A and ifa whiteman finds you it means you are surely lost.