“Wal, no, I hain’t seen no such feller, but I hearn about him two or three days ago.”
“How?”
“Why I was a layin’ in the bushes up back of the church and the Gen’ral an’ Sam Fuller cum along and the Gen’ral sez he, ‘Fuller, that boy’s got to be got off. They’r arter him.’”
“Who’s the General?”
“Wal, that’s Mr. Bushnell. They say he keeps some of them black ’uns some times.”
“Tell us what they said.”
“Wal, Fuller he said, ‘What’s going to be done?’ and the Gen’ral said, ‘You come up with the team after dark and take him down to the tow-path that’s down in Pennsylvanee and tell him to keep north till he came to some colored fokeses and they’d send him to Jehu and then he’d be all right.’”
“How far is it to the tow-path?”
“O I don’t know; that’s on the canawl where they drive the hosses hitched to the boats, an’ I never was so fur from hum.”
There was some farther parleying, seemingly entirely satisfactory to the strangers, then they dropped a “bit” into Dud’s hands, and under the influence of spurs two horses struck out briskly for the land of the Pennymights.