“We must go up to them as beggars, Pete,” he said.
“That’s right enough for me, Master Nic; but you’re a gentleman, zir, and they’ll know it soon as you begin to speak. Let’s go on, zir. I’m that hungry I could almost eat you.”
Nic said nothing, but began to walk on towards the house by his companion’s side, anxiously watching the two women the while, in the full expectation that they would retreat and shut the door against their visitors.
But neither stirred, and the fugitives were half-way to the house, when suddenly there was a growl and a rush.
“Knives, Master Nic,” cried Pete, for three great dogs came charging from the back of the low shed which had given the slaves shelter on their journey up the river. The dogs had evidently been basking in the sunshine till they had caught sight of the strangers, and came on baying furiously.
Nic followed his companion’s example and drew his knife, feeling excited by the coming encounter; but before the dogs reached them the two women came running from the door, crying out angrily at the fierce beasts, whose loud barking dropped into angry growls as they obeyed the calls of their mistresses—the younger woman coming up first, apron in hand, to beat off the pack and drive them before her, back to one of the out-buildings, while her mother remained gazing compassionately at the visitors.
“Thank you,” said Nic, putting back his knife. “Your dogs took us for thieves. We are only beggars, madam, asking for a little bread.”
“Have you—have you escaped from up yonder?” said the woman, sinking her voice.
“Yes,” said Nic frankly. “I was forced away from home for no cause whatever. I am trying to get back.”
“It is very shocking,” said the woman sadly, as her daughter came running up breathlessly. “Some of the men they have there are bad and wicked, and I suppose they deserve it; but Ann and I felt so sorry for you when you came that night months ago. You seemed so different.”