"Me, ma'am. Nobody ain't know nuttin' 'bout it but de two Elliks, en when dat ar gemmun dar ax me des now if dey wa'n't a boat missin' fum 'roun' yer dis mornin' hit sorter flung me back on myse'f. I 'low 'Yes, suh,' but he sho flung me back on myse'f."
Uncle Andy began to chuckle so heartily that his mistress asked him what he was laughing at, though she well knew.
"I hit myse'f on de funny bone, mistiss, en when dat's de case I bleege ter laugh."
At this the lady laughed, and it was a genial, merry, and musical laugh. Mr. Simmons smiled, but so grimly that it had the appearance of a threat.
"And so this is Mr. Simmons, the famous negro hunter?" said Mrs. Ward. "Well, Mr. Simmons, I'm glad to see you. I've long had something to say to you. Whenever you are sent for to catch one of my negroes I want you to come straight to the house on the hill yonder and set your dogs on me. When one of my negroes goes to the woods, you may know it's my fault."
"Trufe, too!" remarked Uncle Andy, under his breath, but loud enough for all to hear.
"That may be so, ma'am," replied Mr. Simmons; "but among a passel of niggers you'll find some bad ones. What little pleasure I get out of this business is in seeing and hearing my dogs run. Somebody's got to catch the runaways, and it might as well be me as anybody."
"Why, certainly, Mr. Simmons. You have become celebrated. Your name is trumpeted about in all the counties round. You are better known than a great many of our rising young politicians."
The lady's manner was very gracious, but there was a gleam of humor in her eye. Mr. Simmons didn't know whether she was laughing at him or paying him a compliment; but he thought it would be safe to change the subject.
"May I ask the old man there a few questions?" he inquired.