Mr. Simmons seemed to be very lucky that morning, for just as he and George Gossett galloped to the landing a boatload of field hands started across from the other side, old Uncle Andy coming with it to row it back. On the other side, too, Mr. Simmons saw a lady standing,—a trim figure dressed in black,—and near her a negro boy was holding a horse that she had evidently ridden to the landing. This was the lady to whom Uncle Andy sometimes referred as Sally Ward, and for whom he had a sincere affection. The river was not wide at the landing, and the boatload of field hands, propelled by four muscular arms, was not long in crossing. As the negroes jumped ashore Sound went among them and examined each one with his nose, but he returned to the landing and looked across and whined. They saluted Mr. Simmons and George Gossett politely, and then went on their way, whistling, singing, and cracking jokes, and laughing loudly.
"Was a bateau missing from this side this morning?" Mr. Simmons asked Uncle Andy.
"Suh?" Uncle Andy put his hand to his ear, affecting to be very anxious to hear what Mr. Simmons had said.
The question was repeated, whereat Uncle Andy laughed loudly.
"You sho is a witch fer guessin', suh! How come you ter know 'bout de missin' boat?"
Mr. Simmons smiled under this flattery. "I thought maybe a boat would be missing from this side this morning," he said.
"Dey sho wuz, suh; but I dunner how de name er goodness you come ter know 'bout it, kaze I wuz on de bank cross dar 'fo' 't wuz light, en I ain't see you on dis side. Yes, suh! De boat wuz gone. Dey foun' it 'bout a mile down de river, en on account er de shoals down dar, dey had ter take it out'n de water en fetch it back yer in de waggin. Yes, suh! dish yer de very boat."
"Where's the ford?" Mr. Simmons inquired. "I used to know, but I've forgotten."
"Right below yer, suh!" replied Uncle Andy. "You'll see de paff whar de stock cross at. B'ar down stream, suh, twel you halfway cross, den b'ar up. Ef you do dat you won't git yo' stirrup wet."
The ford was easily found, but the crossing was not at all comfortable. In fact, Uncle Andy had maliciously given Mr. Simmons the wrong directions. The two men rode into the water, bore down the stream, and their horses were soon floundering in deep water. They soon touched bottom again, and in a few moments they were safe on the opposite bank,—safe, but dripping wet and in no very good humor. Mr. Simmons's dogs, obedient to his call, followed his horse into the water and swam across.