Julius disappeared, but it was not so easy for his master to follow him as it was to talk about it. He found it hard to tear himself away, and lingered long over the parting so long, in fact, that Julius grew tired of waiting for him. He placed the valise and blankets in the bow of the boat, made sure for the twentieth time that the little craft was ready for the start, and then sauntered back to the house to see why Marcy did not come. But he did not find the coast clear this time. Just as he was passing through the gate he heard a slight rustling in the bushes that lined the carriageway on both sides. Without waiting a second to see what made the noise, the quick-witted darky took to his heels; but, before he had made half a dozen steps, a man stepped into the carriage-way in front of him and seized him by the arm. Julius looked up, and saw that he was in the grasp of Captain Beardsley.
"None of that, you little varmint," said the captain. "You stay here with me."
As he spoke he tightened his grasp and began dragging his prisoner toward the concealment from which he had just emerged; whereupon the black boy set up a yell that could have been heard half a mile away. And what was more, he kept on yelling until Beardsley clapped his big hand over his mouth, and put a stop to the performance.
CHAPTER XVII.
MARCY TAKES TO THE SWAMP.
The little darky was not very badly frightened on his own account—he never got that way unless he saw or heard something he could not understand—but he was overwhelmed with anxiety for Marcy Gray, who had not yet left the presence of his mother. Julius believed that the dwelling had been surrounded by the Home Guards while he was stowing the valise and blankets in the boat, and if that proved to be the case, Marcy would in all probability start for Williamston jail instead of the swamp. The black boy thought of these things in an instant of time, and did what he could to upset the plans of the Home Guards by yelling at the top of his voice.
"Keep still, you little fule," said Beardsley, in an angry whisper.
"Nobody's going to hurt you."
"Aint, hey?" exclaimed a second man, who at that moment came upon the scene. "I'll hurt him to-morrow, I bet you; I'll have him brung into the field; and he has heard me talk often enough to know what them words mean."
Just then Julius succeeded in freeing himself from Beardsley's grasp, and it was well for him that he did so, for the man had almost smothered him by holding his nose between his thumb and fore-finger at the same time that he covered his mouth with the rest of his hand. The negro gasped once or twice, and then sank to the ground like a piece of wet rope.
"All right. Let him lay there till he gets ready to get up," said
Captain Beardsley. "Where's the men? Where's Shelby!"