"Lord bless you, missus, you knows I'd die a hundred times for you."
"I believe you would," returned Rosalind, touched by his tone and words; "but it is no hardship that I ask of you."
"Well, out with it quick, fur dese fellers don't like to see yer horse's side rubbin' all de wool off ob my head."
"You are acquainted with Roland Leslie, Zeb?" asked Rosalind, bending lower and speaking in a whisper which she scarcely heard herself.
"Yes," answered Zeb, breathing hurriedly.
"Well, should you see him, tell him of my situation; and—and—tell him not to run into danger for my sake."
"I will," rejoined Zeb, fervently.
Here a savage, judging that matters had gone far enough, jerked the negro rudely back.
"You needn't be so spiteful," retorted Zeb; "she's told me all she's agwine to."
Rosalind had done so; nothing further passed between them.