"We didn't come ashore here," answered Mark. "We landed some distance above here, during the storm. Then our boat drifted down the stream and we followed along the river bank, until your dogs came for us."
"Did dem dorgs bite you-uns?"
"We didn't give them the chance," said Bob.
"Whar you-uns gwine?"
"To Cairo, if we can make it."
A little additional talk followed, and at last the negro was convinced that they meant no harm. Then he called off the bloodhounds and chained them up.
"To tell de truf, I didn't know da was loose," said he. "Colonel Racket mustah hab fogotten bound dem."
"Who is Colonel Racket?" questioned Mark.
"De colonel is ma mastah, sah—he owns dis place, sah."
"Is he around?"