Mary Winkle came twice, fortunately without Willette, for that astute young person would instantly have discovered Olive, owing to the pertinacious company of Diana. A dog does not hang around a corn-stack the live-long day unless there is something interesting inside it claiming attention. Olive began to feel like a hunted criminal herself.
Napoleon Pompey had been sent away in the morning to look for some young cattle that had not been seen since the fire, and having to go on foot he did not come back till the afternoon. He burst in upon her with these appalling words:
“Dey’s done cotch him!”
“Who told you?” asked Olive, not pretending any miscomprehension of what was only too plain to her mind.
“Ole nigger seed ’em. Dey bringin’ him back. Ole man Cotterell he de hoss-thief, him ridin’ Queen Katharine when dey cotch him. Nigger tole me he seed ’em yonder.”
“Have they shot him?” asked Olive with white lips.
“No, dey’s gwine ter jury-try him, den dey hang him ’cause he done stole hoss and he kill ole Mill’s Jake.” Napoleon Pompey licked his lips and grinned. Olive turned from him in horror.
“Where have they taken him to?”
“Dunno. Nigger he ’lowed dey gwine ter Jacksonville.”
Olive made up her mind and took her resolution. She questioned Napoleon Pompey very carefully, found exactly what negro it was from whom he had obtained his information concerning the capture of Cotterell. He worked with the Halls who lived over the other side of Cotton Wood Creek, and she made minute inquiries as to how to reach their house. Then she told the boy to give Rebel a double feed of corn and to bring in the new lariat-rope and mallet and pin. Rebel had been removed back to his own stable by Brother Wright’s desire, as he had no belief now in Pluto as a watch-dog. Napoleon Pompey was open-mouthed with wonder at Olive’s directions about the horse, and asked “whar she gwine?” She told him to do as she bid him and to say nothing to anybody about it, whereat he was still more open-mouthed. Olive got a large shawl and rolled it up into a tight bundle, and then dressed herself in a strong serviceable stuff dress and went to supper with Napoleon Pompey, to whom she never spoke a single word. When supper was over she sent him down to his mother to ask her to bake a pumpkin-pie for her. Napoleon Pompey said he would go “fust thing in de mornin’,” and she told him sternly to go at once and do as he was bid. When Napoleon Pompey came back Olive was gone, and so was Rebel, with lariat-rope picket-pin and mallet, and so was her tightly rolled shawl.