“Cato, come here, you are wanted; here is ‘sign.’”
“Who’s that callin’?” asked some one close by.
“Walt Ridgely. I want Cato.”
The man took up the cry, and hallooed:
“Come hyar, ye blasted nigger; ye’r’ dee-sired.”
But no answer came. Walter, incensed, made his way back to the glade where they were standing when the cry was heard. When he got there he found it deserted. Thinking the negro was away on a scout, he hallooed to the searching men to bring him back. They did so, calling loudly. But no answering halloo was heard.
The frontiersmen, thinking an important discovery had been made, came back, and soon all were re-assembled, plying Walter with questions. He related the occurrence, and their faculties aroused, part of them went away into the woods to recover the missing negro, leaving the father and lover well-nigh distracted at the delay.
In half an hour (which seemed an age to the latter) they all came back, vowing vengeance; the negro had deserted. Brought to a stand-still, they cursed and growled some, then entered into a council of war.
Cato, on being left to himself, had taken advantage of the moment, and sped away at full speed toward Shadow Swamp, distant about three miles. Arriving there, he gave his own peculiar whistle for the captain, who soon appeared on the edge of the island.
The negro signaled him to cross. The captain disappeared, then appeared paddling toward him. He drew up by the projecting log on which the negro was standing, and demanded: