"But I should think the Colonel looked after you poorly—giving you nothing to eat."
"Oh! it's ben sech a storm to-day, the gals couldn't go for the vittles, though 'tain't a great way. We'r on his plantation; this house is his'n."
This last was agreeable news, and it occurred to me that if we were so near the Colonel's we might push on, in spite of the storm, and get there that night; so I said:
"Indeed; I'm going to the Colonel's. How far is his house from here?"
"A right smart six mile; it's at the Cross roads. Ye know the Cunnel, du ye?"
"Oh, yes, I know him well. If his home is not more than six miles off, I think we had better go on to-night. What do you say, Scip?"
"I reckon we'd better gwo, massa," replied the darky, who had spread my travelling-shawl in the chimney-corner, and was seated on it, drying his clothes.
"Ye'd better not," said the woman; "ye'd better stay har; thar's a right smart run twixt har and the Cunnel's, and 'tain't safe to cross arter dark."
"If that is so we'd better stay, Scip; don't you think so?" I said to the darky.
"Jess as you say, massa. We got fru wid de oder one, and I reckon taint no wuss nor dat."