“’Scuse me, marster; is you Marse Cleve Stuart?” inquired a voice from the darkness at his elbow.
“Yes. Who are you?” demanded Stuart.
“’Sias, sah, old Marse John Clebe’s man f’om Wolfskif; yas, sah, dat’s me,” replied the invisible.
“And you have been sent to meet us, eh? Come in here. Let us take a look at one another,” said Cleve with a laugh, as he led the way into the lighted station.
The negro was a man of middle age, tall, stout, strong and very black, and clothed in a warm suit of thick, heavy homespun cloth.
“You have been sent to meet us?” again suggested Stuart.
“Yas, sah! along wid de ox cart, to fetch you an’—de ladies, do’ I did’n know as dere wasn’t no more’n one lady; but, laws! de more de better, I say, marster, and my name’s ’Sias, old Marse John Clebe’s man f’m Wolfskif Hall—yas, sah.”
“Did you say you had brought the ox cart for us?” inquired Stuart in some dismay as he thought of his dainty wife.
“Yas, sah! I has fetched the ox cart, wid Baron an’ Markiss yoked on, an’ dey is de best beasts on de plantation, kind and gentle as new milk, ’specially Baron, to fetch you an’ de ladies and de luggage, all at de same time, an’ dere’s a-plenty o’ hay for de ladies to sit on jes’ as clean an’ as dry n’s sweet as wiolits.”
“But was there no carriage in my uncle’s stables?” inquired Cleve.