“Get the sail,” he said; and the triangular piece of canvas was spread beside the man on the ground.
“Now,” said my father, “creep on to that, and we’ll carry you.”
The man looked up at him with his brow puckered over with lines, but he did not comprehend.
“Show him what I mean,” said my father; and I lay down on the canvas, and then rose up, and my father pointed.
The negro understood him, spoke to the boy, and with his help and Morgan’s half rolled, half dragged himself on to the sail.
“Now,” said my father; “he’s big and heavy; Morgan and I will take the top, you take the bottom, George. If you could get that boy to understand, it would be easy.”
I took hold of the bottom of the sail and made signs to the boy, but he could not or would not understand, till the black uttered a guttural word or two, when he came shrinkingly to my side, and took hold, watching me the while as if to be aware of danger.
“Now then,” said my father, “I don’t suppose you two can lift; but if you ease the load up a little from the ground, that will be all that is necessary. Now together, Morgan.”
They turned their backs on us as they took a good hold of the sail, and began to drag our load toward the great barn-like shed at the end of the house, reaching it without much difficulty, and drawing the sail right over a quantity of dry corn-stalks.
Here, after giving them some food to eat if they desired it, we left them and closed the door.