"It's pas' midnight, chillun, an' I'se 'lowin' dat de time hab come for you to snake dat young Tory up here."
"Is everything quiet, Uncle 'Rasmus?" Pierre asked, and the old negro replied:
"I ain' heard a soun' dis las' hour, 'cept when dem sogers what am on guard raise up dere hootin' to let folks know dey're awake. It's dark as de lan' ob Egypt eber was, an' I'se kind'er reckonin' you kin go down to Marse Bemis's shop widout makin' trubble for yoursefs. 'Member, chillun, ef dese yere red-coats do sneak up on yer, an' fin' out what you'se erbout, take to your laigs. Don' stop to fight, kase it won't be any use. Des say to yoursefs dat de Hamilton plantation am a heap better place dan dis yere town ob York, an' you get dere, honey, you get dere!"
"What about yourself, Uncle 'Rasmus?" I asked with deep concern. "Suppose the Britishers learn of our doings and we run away, you would be in danger, for surely Horry Sims never'd let the chance slip him to mix you up in the row."
"Don' you gib any heed to your Uncle 'Rasmus, honey. Ef trubble comes you des look arter yoursefs, an' leabe de ole nigger to crawl out ob de hole de bes' way he kin. Don' stop to talk nor to fight, ef de Britishers pounce on yer; but get back to de plantation. Git dere, honey, git dere!"
Uncle 'Rasmus's advice, instead of strengthening my courage, was weakening it. In the darkness, and now when we were about to make this venture which I knew to be in the highest degree dangerous, I was growing weak-kneed. The attempt to bring Horry Sims across the entire length of the village, where were Britishers on every hand, seemed an entirely different matter from what it had been when the sun was shining, and, fearing lest I might show the white feather if we stood there many moments, I went out hurriedly into the night, giving little heed as to whether Pierre followed until I felt the soft pressure of his hand upon my arm.
"There is no need of great haste, Fitz," he whispered, and I replied in a tremulous voice:
"Indeed there is, Pierre, else am I like to grow so cowardly as to turn tail and make for the Hamilton plantation, regardless of anything save my own feelings."
"You will never do anything of the kind, Fitzroy Hamilton, and that you know as well as I," the little lad whispered with emphasis. "I am not afraid you will turn coward, for it is not cowardly to be afraid when one makes such a venture as this, providing he keeps his face resolutely toward the goal."
I might fill up an hundred pages with an account of my fears and forebodings as Pierre and I went cautiously through the darkness from old Mary's cabin, to Bemis's shop, and yet not have told anything which would interest a stranger, therefore it is that I shall content myself by simply saying that we crossed the village without having been molested, almost without having heard a sound from the enemy.