He described in glowing terms and very bad English how he had jumped fences and chased through moonlit backyards, and how he had been shot at at every step of the way!
“I reckon you were shot at because some one mistook you for a thief.”
Mose looked reproachfully at Jule, and rolled his eyes wider than ever.
“What are we going to do now?” questioned Clay. “I don’t know how much of this story to believe.”
“One of us might leave the boat and go back with Mose,” the other suggested.
At mention of his going back to the place from which he had fled, Mose rushed into the cabin, lowered his bunk, and covered up, head and ears, in the bedclothes! Captain Joe tried to worry him out, but without success.
“I believe the dog can find them,” Clay remarked, presently.
“I’m willing to go and try what he can do,” Jule answered.
“If we could get that foolish negro to come along!” Clay commented.
Jule went back to the bunk and shook Mose by the shoulder.