"I hope most sincerely you may succeed, lad; but yet I doubt it sorely. In the meanwhile, what about Uncle 'Rasmus?"
"We will go to his cabin now, explain what has happened, and then lounge around the stable quarters of the Rangers, where you shall have a glimpse of your beloved Silver Heels."
I believe the lad reminded me of the horse I loved so well, with the purpose of holding my courage straight, and he could have used no other bait that would have lured me so quickly from out the Slough of Despond into which I had fallen.
There was no hope in my heart, however sanguine he appeared, that I could regain possession of my horse. The most I dared look forward to was that events might so shape themselves as to make it possible for us to escape from this town into which we had voluntarily come, and yet I was such a simple that I failed of understanding it was Pierre Laurens who would get us out of the hobble, if indeed we ever did get out; but I followed him meekly as he led the way toward the Pigeon Quarter.
Uncle 'Rasmus was seated by the window; we could see his wrinkled black face through the dirty glass, and surely he had every appearance of being near to death as he sat there huddled up in a little ball, so to speak, wrapped in his blanket although the day was unusually warm.
"Are you really sick, Uncle?" I asked, hurrying into the hovel with the fear that I should find there additional trouble.
"I'se mighty bad, honey, mighty bad," the old man replied with an odd twinkle in his eyes. "I 'spects I'se 'bleeged ter stay right here, wid neber a chance ob gettin' back to de ole plantation, kase I'se got de misery in my back, my head, an' my legs till I'se des de same as a wuffless ole cripple."
"That's right, Uncle 'Rasmus," Pierre said cheerily. "You are a promising looking old invalid, and I guarantee that if any of these red-coated gentry have a suspicion you may be playing a part, one glimpse of that face of yours will convince them you are nigh to death."
"I'se bin reckonin' on des dat same ting, an' while de ole nigger am so po'ly dese yere gen'men who's in de army carn' grudge my seein' you chillun now an' den."
"You are likely to see a good deal of us, Uncle 'Rasmus," I said grimly, now understanding that the old negro was simply playing his part as had been agreed upon. "We had the ill luck to come across Horry Sims; Saul lost his temper, and let the fellow know we were acquainted with what he had been about."