“Yes, missie; you call a me?”
“Oh!” cried Sarah, fiercely, “just wait till I get hold of you, sir;” and she ran off down the path at the other side of the house, shouting for the boy, who kept on answering, and, as I realised now, purposely leading her farther and farther away to give his father time.
For, stooping low down, and with wonderful speed and agility, Hannibal, who had crept out of the hut, suddenly darted into and down the garden, and as I followed, keeping well hidden among the trees, I saw him reach the front of the house, shake out the uniform, hang coat and breeches on the rail, stick the cap on the end, and dart off away in another direction, so to reach the path leading into the forest on the way to the stream.
I ached with my efforts to keep down my laughter, as I saw him scud off, glad at heart though, all the same, for, poor fellow, he had escaped. Then all at once my admiration for Pomp increased to a wonderful degree, for I heard a howl from the other side of the house, the sound of blows, heavy ones too; and as Pomp shrieked and howled, it was evident that Sarah was cuffing him tremendously.
Her voice grew louder every moment, so did Pomp’s cries and protestations, till I could hear every word from my hiding-place, thoroughly enjoying of course the punishment that had fallen on the boy, while delighted by his ruse to get the clothes back and save his father.
“Oh don’t, missie; don’t whop a poor lil nigger,” came loudly.
“You mischievous—(bang!)—young—(bang!)—Where are those clothes?”
“No, haven’t got ’em, missie; no, haven’t got ’em. Oh! oh! Oh!”
“Don’t tell me your wicked stories, sir. Tell me this moment, or master shall know, and you shall be flogged. You have stolen them away.”
“No, no, missie, Pompey nebber ’teal, no, nebber; wouldn’t ’teal notin’.”