“Good old dogs, then,” said Nic, patting their heads. “Go on, and take us right away, and when it gets daylight you may all have a good sleep. Hie on, then, boys; hie on! Right away.”
The dogs threw up their heads, snuffed about a bit, and then started off once more at a steady pace, which soon slowed down, and made the task of following them in the darkness much less difficult. Then all at once one of them uttered a low, whining sound and sprang off a little faster.
For the ground was more open here, the trees bigger, and the undergrowth—the great hindrance—scarce.
“Better going here, Master Nic, if it waren’t for the great roots sticking out. Now, if the day would only break we should be able to zee better what we were doing. My word! if we could only come across a good wild-apple orchard it wouldn’t be amiss.”
“And that we shall not find.”
“Never mind, zir; we’ll find zum’at else—toadstools on the trees, or wild berries, or zomething; and if them dogs don’t run down anything good for a roast, why, they don’t come up to one of our old Devon lurchers. If this was one of our woods we shouldn’t be long without something between our teeth. Don’t you be downhearted; I’ll find zome’at we can eat.”
“I am not downhearted, Pete; and, if we can do so in safety, we’ll go on walking all day.”
“That’s right; on’y we don’t want to run upon no more plantations.”
“No; we must trust to the wild country, Pete, till we can reach the sea.”
“And not feel zafe when we get there, zir. Zay, Master Nic, I don’t think much of a country where they has zlaves, whether they’re white or whether they’re black.”