"Must I go alone, massa?"
"That's a fact.—There, Moore, you go with the boy—don't be a minute."
Barney followed the sable marauder through the grounds to the rear of the trellis, and crept with him through a window which stood open. The kitchen was dark, but the negro seemed perfectly familiar with the place. He made directly for a dark panel in the northern wall, opened a cupboard-door, knelt down and began to grope among bottles, boxes, and what not that housewives gather in such receptacles.
"Oh, de lor'! dey ain't no rope! It's done gone!" "Have you a match?"
Barney asked.
"No, massa, but dey is some yondah."
"Find them."
The boy crept cautiously in the direction of the passage leading into the house; he fumbled about, an age, as it seemed to the impatient Barney, and at last uttered an exclamation:
"Got 'em?"
"No, massa, but Ise suah deys kep dar."
"Take my hand and lead me."