“Well,” said Rambler, “when we ran up on the young man and the young lady there was a great flurry. The negro girl screamed, and the young lady rushed into the arms of the young man for protection. My companions and I ran around and circled, but all trace of the Son of Ben Ali had disappeared.
“I found the warm scent of a horse, but there was no horse to be seen. I thought this very strange, so I followed it a few hundred yards, but said nothing to my companions about it. The scent led out of the woods, through a field in which the brown sedge grew high, and, in going through this, I caught the scent of the Son of Ben Ali. It was high on the sedge, and I knew by this that the horse had the Son of Ben Ali for a rider. But I said nothing to my companions. I turned away from the horse’s trail, and continued to go in a circle, until, coming to the point where the young man had entered the woods, I made some fuss over it, and thus drew my companions away from the sedge field. They came to me, but I told them it was a mistake, and in this way cooled them off, so that they were no longer as keen to find the trail of the Son of Ben Ali as they had been.
“I have told pretty much all I know about it,” continued Rambler, dodging another spark. “It happened that the young man who was out there in the woods with the young lady was the man to whom Old Grizzly had sent the Son of Ben Ali with the bale of cotton.”
“Was it really papa and mamma?” asked Buster John, turning to Aaron.
Aaron laughed and nodded his head.
“Well, they’ve never told me anything about it,” said Sweetest Susan, in an injured tone.
“Nor me either,” remarked Buster John.
“Huh!” exclaimed Drusilla, “folks don’t hafter tell dey chilluns all dey know.”
Just then a loud, but mellow voice outside cried out: “Drusilla! You Drusilla! You better answer me gal! I boun’ I’ll make you talk when I git holt er you!”