“Well, where is he? This lady protests that he is not here.”
Jubal rolled his eyes upon his mistress, and then, with chattering teeth, said, “He were here, suh.”
“Jubal,” said Lettice, solemnly, “do you mean your Marster Tom?”
Jubal looked from one side to the other. “I didn’ know hit were Mars Torm, in de fus’ place, Miss Letty, an’ when I fins dat out, I skeered to say nobody heah. Beside dat, Mars Torm gimme a whuppin’ oncet.”
“And you deserved it,” cried his mistress. “You ham-strung his colt because the creature kicked you when you were stealing a ride on him, and you deserved worse than a whipping. You always were a bad fellow, Jubal. I wonder that father did not sell you long ago. I would to Heaven he had!”
“Then your man spoke the truth. There was a deserter here,” said the captain, turning to Lettice.
“There was, if so you choose to consider him, but he is gone. He left us this morning, and when you arrived he was far on his way.”
“Why did you not say so at once?”
“That he might be farther on his way.”
“Ah-h!” The man smiled. “Well, miss, we’ll search the place, anyhow. There may be other things to learn, and we’ll take your maid as a punishment to you for defying his Majesty’s servants. We will leave your loyal man to your tender mercies.”