“Oh no, of course not,” said the lieutenant, “but I suppose our black friend here can. Tell us all about it, what’s your name—Caesar?”
“Yes, massa,” said the black promptly; and he began eagerly to point out the various impressions in the earth, carefully keeping on one side and nearly touching the ground as he bent down.
“Dose niggah foots,” he whispered, picking out carefully the trails of four pairs of footsteps which had passed to where they stood, evidently coming to an end. “Yes, sah; dose niggah foots. Carry Massa Allen. All ’tick down deep in de mud.”
“Ah, to be sure!” cried Murray. “I see.”
“Dey get tire’ carry Massa Allen long way. No, Caesar t’ink Massa Allen say he walk bit now, and jump down. Dose Massa Allen foots. Got shoe on. Massa officer see?”
“To be sure he does, darkie. Well done! You see, Mr Murray?”
“Oh yes, sir; I can see now he shows me.”
“Yes; young buccra officer see Massa Allen shoe ’tick down in de mud. Dose black niggah foots,” continued the black, pointing.
“How do you know they are black footsteps?” asked Murray.
“All a toes ’tick out wide,” replied the man promptly; and he raised one of his own feet with the toes spreading widely, stepped to a soft patch of green-covered mud, and pressed his foot down and raised it again. “Dah,” he continued; “Massa buccra see? Dat black niggah foots, and dat are white man foot. Look toopid all queezum up in hard boot. Dat Massa Huggin foots.”