"Now we must be still," said Aleck, when they were safe for the time being. "Hear dem a-conun' dis way."
The three listened and soon made out the footsteps of the approaching party. They soon passed on up the road.
"We've fooled them," whispered Sam.
"But, oh, Aleck, what does it all mean?"
"It means dat yo' uncle an' Dick am prisoners—took by a lot of rascals under a tall, Frenchman."
"Yes, but I don't understand—"
"No more do I, Massah Sam, but it war best to git out, dat's as shuah as yo' is born," added the colored man solemnly.
Poor Torn was having a wretched time of it with his ankle, which hurt as badly as ever and had begun to swell. As he steadied himself on one of the limbs of the tree Sam removed his shoe, which gave him a little relief.
From a distance came a shouting, and they made out through the trees the gleam of a torch. But soon the sounds died out and the light disappeared.
What should they do next? This was a question impossible to answer.