“All gone, sah,” cried Samson, beginning to tremble.
“Bah! you ’most fass ’sleep,” cried Xerxes, who had come in at the call of his companion; “dey all tuck under de corn-’talk.”
“You black idiot!” roared the overseer, turning upon the sentry so savagely that the man’s knees began to knock together; he let go his hold of his musket, and it fell on the floor with a thud, followed by a flash and an explosion, while the man escaped a knockdown blow by ducking.
“Here, quick!” cried the settler, who had seized one of the lanthorns from Samson and convinced himself that the other prisoners had taken advantage of the hole made by Pete, and, as soon as the chase began, climbed quietly out in turn. “All of you follow. Pick up that musket and load it again, you black fool!”
“No ’top clap irons on dese two, sah?” cried Samson.
“No. Here, Saunders, fetch another musket. Samson, you and Nero guard these two while we’re gone; and if you let them escape I’ll shoot you.”
“No, no,” said Saunders quickly; “I’ll manage them. We want all our men. Here, Sam; go and let loose the dogs.”
“But these two?” cried the settler impatiently.
“Well, the dogs will watch them.”
“We want them, man, to track the other scoundrels.”