I signed to Hannibal to come to me, and the gentleman mounting guard with him giving permission, I took him aside.
“Well, Han,” I said, as he smiled at me in his quiet, grave way, “you’ve got a gun, and are going to fight then?”
“Yes, Mass’ George, going to fight.”
“And will the other people fight too?”
“Yes; all going to fight,” he said. “Capen say must fight for us, Hannibal, and Hannibal going to fight for capen and Mass’ George.”
“But—” I checked myself, for it seemed to come to me like a flash that it would be foolish to ask the question I intended about the blacks being faithful. “It would be like putting it into their heads to be false,” I said to myself; and then, as the great fellow looked at me inquiringly, I continued aloud—
“Try and protect my father if you can, Han.”
He gave me a quick look, and the tears stood in his eyes.
“Han die for capen and Mass’ George,” he said.
At that moment there was a bustle and excitement at the gate, and I tried as quickly as my injury would allow to join the group who were hurrying that way.