“Well, it wouldn’t ha’ been any use without powder and zhot,” said Pete as he thrust the boat out into the stream. “Good-bye to you both,” he shouted, waving his hand to the two women, who stood waving their aprons.
“But it seems cowardly, Pete, to go and leave them in the lurch.”
“Ay, it do, Master Nic; but it only means a rowing for them, and it’s life and liberty for us.”
There was another wave of a white apron as the boat glided out into mid-stream, and Nic responded with his hand. Then trees interposed and hid the house and sheds from view, and the fugitives went on straining at their oars till they felt that their safety was assured, when they relaxed their efforts.
“That was close, Master Nic,” said Pete. “Treacherous martal. Wish I’d give him a good topper before we zhut the door.”
“I’m glad you did not, for his wife and daughter’s sake,” replied Nic. “Poor things! they will suffer for their gentle, womanly compassion towards a pair of poor escaped slaves.”
“Ay, it was good of ’em, Master Nic. Zees how hungry we were, and fetches that fresh brown loaf, and all that pink-and-white bacon as looks d’licious. Zo, as we’re going gently on, and not likely for him to take boat after us, what do you say to staying all that horrid gnawing of our insides with a good bite and sup? But—I say, Master Nic, what did you do with that bacon and bread?”
Nic looked sharply up at Pete, and the latter uttered a dismal groan. The bread and bacon had gone, neither knew where, in the struggle, and the landing and encounter had all been for nothing.
“Not quite,” Nic said later on. They had learned how much gentle compassion existed for the poor white slaves, even in a district where the sight of them was so common.
“P’raps so, Master Nic; but I’d give all the compassion in the world just now for a zlice of that bacon and a hunk of bread. What’s to be done now, zir?”