Paul started, and turned very pale. "Jube, Jube," he called out, with a cry of pain.
Jube started up from his knees, and came running toward the children.
"What is it—what is it, little masser?"
"He is here, that bad man—he wants to marry Rose's mother," cried the lad, flinging his arms around the little girl, and looking the brave, bright boy he really was.
"Who, who, little masser?" cried Jube, looking around for some enemy.
"Captain Thrasher." Paul uttered the name in a whisper.
Jube clenched his hand, looking fiercely toward the house.
"He there, Masser Paul?"
"Yes," said the angry child, shaking her little rosebud of a fist at the house. "He's there with my own mother, this minute. He'll carry her off in spite of us all."
"What can we do?" said Paul, anxiously looking at Jube.