“Dud, I say Dud, come here quick,” called the senior Tracy to the boy who stood gazing after the rapidly receding forms of the horsemen, and the junior slowly responded to the call.
As soon as Dud was within the door the query was raised, “What did the gentlemen want?”
“O nothing much, only they asked me if I’d seen the nigger advertised on the hand-bill yonder?”
“Well, what did you tell them?”
“O not much; I just yawned a little, telling them I heard the Gen’ral tell Mr. Fuller that he must get the boy down to Clarksville and start him north for Bishop, who would get him to the lake.”
“Why, Dud, what a—”
“Come now, dad, no accusations. Didn’t I just hear you tuning your gospel melody as much as to say, ‘Keep still up there,’ and didn’t I hear you tell mother last night, when you thought we children were asleep, you didn’t know what to do? But I did, and I’ve done it and now you needn’t try to keep this thing from me any longer. You’ve thought I don’t know what’s up, but I guess I’ve seen the last twenty darkies you’ve holed in the shop and Uncle Sam has taken away, and now that I’ve got those fellows off, I think you can afford to let me take a hand after this.”
A look of astonishment, mingled with satisfaction, overspread the countenance of Azel Tracy at this revelation of the fact that his son was acquainted with so much of the method of the road, a thing of which he and many another parent, for prudential reasons, tried to keep their children in ignorance, and taking the hand of the boy he replied, “You shall have all the hand in it you wish, my son.”
The sun had dropped below the western horizon when the aforesaid bare-footed boy might have been seen making his way eastward to the home of farmer Fuller, bearing the following note:
48 to 1001.