"Missy keep bufday one day after proper time, sah, cos her muvver die on proper bufday, and Massa and Missy too sorry to be jolly dat day, sah."
"Does Mr. Vetch know that?" I asked, with no little anxiety, for 'twas Tuesday night, and if Vetch knew that Lucy came of age on Thursday the time was perilously short.
"No, sah; Massa Vetch t'ink de proper bufday be Friday, and he hab told all de black people dey shall get drunk Saturday, 'cos dere will be wedding in de house."
There was confirmation of the suspicion my jailors' talk had bred in me. I lost no time now in imparting my plan to the negro. He gave a low groan when I had finished.
"What's the matter?" I said. "Are you afraid?"
"Yes, Massa, I am 'fraid. S'pose we get away, dere be dogs at the big house, and dey will let 'em loose on us and follow on horseback. We shall be cotched, and dat will be de last of po' Uncle Moses."
This was a staggering blow, and I own I felt for the moment an utter despair. In the depths of the forest land, could we but gain it, we might elude the search of men, but not the unerring scent of bloodhounds.
"Are there horses we could make off with?" I said at length.
"No, Massa; all de horses but two at de big house be gwine to take sugar to de coast tomorrow, and dose two are kept for Missy and Massa Vetch."
This had an element of comfort in it, for if we could not find horses for ourselves, neither could our pursuers, save these two, which might not be at hand, and I did not doubt we could outstrip any man on foot. I pointed this out to the negro, and when he replied that we had still to reckon with the dogs, I tried to hearten him by showing that some time must elapse before the beasts could be fetched from their kennel and put upon the scent. And then I asked him whether slaves had never run away from the estate without being caught.