“You can leave that to me.”
“Where is it; I’d like to see how it looks.”
“No, that will not do. It is in Excelsior Station and the probabilities are there will be vigorous efforts made to recapture it, so you must ‘eyes off.’ If you undertake the carrying I will see to the rest.”
“All right.”
That night there was made a little readjustment of the wagon box, some hay and a blanket were placed on top of the projecting bars and there, extended at full length, was the form of Edward Howard, when in the early morning Mr. Pennock was ready to depart.
Meanwhile his master had procured from a Virginia friend, a couple of good horses and himself as an assistant, and entered Wellsville on the morning of Mr. Pennock’s departure. After a half day’s fruitless search with the aid of an officer, they became satisfied that the object of their regard had been forwarded, so they took the road north. Overtaking the old blacksmith with his iron rattling along, they enquired, “Have you seen any nigger along the road?”
“What kind of a one was he?”
“Why a black one with a woolly head, tall and slim like a d—d yankee bean pole.”
“Well, gentlemen, I haven’t seen no such a one, indeed I have seen none at all.”
“Well, have you heard of any?”