VII.
RAMBLER, THE TRACK DOG, CONCLUDES HIS STORY.
“Where did you go when you rode the filly off?” Buster John asked Aaron.
“He came right here,” said Rambler; “I know it, because when old Grizzly whistled to me and my companions and started home, I went back, picked up the scent of the filly, and followed it here. At the lot, the Son of Ben Ali took the saddle off, hung it under the shed, and then came to this house.”
“That is so,” remarked Aaron; “an old man by the name of Abe lived here.”
“Why, I remember old Uncle Abe,” said Buster John. “He used to sit in the sun and make horse collars and baskets, and tell tales.”
“He was a great hand for that,” assented Aaron.
“I followed him here,” continued Rambler, “but found the door shut. I scratched at it and whined. The man named Abe opened it, and I came in, but I didn’t see anything of the Son of Ben Ali. But I knew he was in here. My nose told me so. I noticed some planks across the rafters—they are there yet, as you can see—and I looked up and whined. The man named Abe looked around until he found his axe. ‘So you are Gossett’s nigger dog,’ he said. ‘Well, you’ll never hunt any more niggers for him.’
“‘What is that?’ said the Son of Ben Ali from the loft.
“‘Gossett’s nigger dog,’ said the man named Abe. ‘He has followed you here. What shall I do with him?’