"All de saddle hosses, chile. De Britishers done took ebery las' hoof dat was wuff takin'."
"And Silver Heels with them," I said in a tearful voice.
"Yes, chile, Silber Heels is wid de res'. I kind'er 'lowed it was gwine ter break your heart, honey, but dere was nuffin' ole 'Rasmus could do to stop it, kase it seemed like dis yere stable-yard was plum full ob red-coats, all ob 'em swearin' an' laughin', till it seemed like dey was jes' achin' to 'buse some ob us niggers scandalous, an' I 'low dey would, ef we'd giben 'em de least little word ob back talk."
"Do you know who sent them here, Uncle 'Rasmus?" Saul asked suddenly, and the old negro nodded his head as he replied:
"I'se done gone hab my 'spicions, chile. Dere's plenty ob plantations nearer de town ob York dan dis yere, an' yet 'cordin' to what I heard de sogermen say, dey haben't been anywhere else yet. So I was 'lowin' dat some ob de folks 'roun' here, dem as claim to hab a mighty big love for us, set 'em on."
"Can't you guess who it was, Uncle 'Rasmus?" Saul continued, and the old man replied in a dreamy tone:
"I done hab my 'spicions; but in dese yere times when you don' know who's your friend more'n half de time, dere ain' any sense in talkin' right out what you'se tinkin'. I'se 'lowin' I can guess who set de red-coats aflame."
"You couldn't guess in a week," Saul interrupted, "because you're thinking it might be some one of the planters, like Master Sims, instead of which it was that worthless son of his—Horry."
Watching Uncle 'Rasmus closely, I fancied that this information was not new to him, and straightway fell awondering how it was that this old negro who seldom strayed out of the stable-yard, let alone going away from the plantation, should have an inkling of what might be done so far away as the Sims place.
"Pierre has been to York Town, Uncle 'Rasmus, and he knows where Silver Heels and Saul's mare are quartered."