"You git in de brush ober dar," said he. "Dere is a big meetin' goin' on, an' lots ob white folks on de roads. Mighty dang'rous runnin' 'way to-day."
"But suppose they come after us now, won't they find us?" I asked.
"Golly, Massa, I reckon I ken fool dem if dey do—ef dey don't go after de dogs, an' dey aint no nigger dogs less dan eight mile, an' it's mos' night now. Reckon you uns mus' be hungry, aint ye? Looks as t'ough you didn't have nuffin to eat for a week—S-st! Mars, git in dat brush quick! Dere's white folks comin'!"
The warning came not a moment too soon. In the road, not more than a dozen rods from us, we could see persons moving. Throwing ourselves on the ground, we crawled into a thicket and awaited the denouement. The negro caught up his axe and commenced cutting brush industriously. Soon gathering an armful of it, he started towards his cabin, situated on the road, in sight of our retreat in the thicket. He had so timed himself as to reach his cabin about the time the parties on the road passed it. We could see them in conversation, and soon after we saw them pass on, and the negro go into his hut.
It was now nearly dark. Our suspense can be imagined, during the time we were waiting for his return. Would he be true to the interests of three unknown men, simply upon the statement that they were Yankees? Would not the education of a lifetime of slavery teach him to side with the strong against the weak, as a matter of policy? Were he to deliver up to the whites three Yankee officers who had escaped from prison, he would win a local notoriety for fidelity to his master and his master's interests, that would make him the hero of the neighborhood, at least among the whites, and probably insure a reward that to him might be riches. Or would he be faithful to his race, by succoring their recognized friends? For it is a fact that none of his people were so ignorant that they did not know that the result of the war was to be to them either freedom or perpetual slavery.
The action taken by the black man was to us a question not of capture and imprisonment, but of life. We had fully determined that we would not be recaptured. If necessary we would die; but be recaptured while we had life or reason—never! Little was said by either of us, but our thoughts were pictured on our faces.
About an hour after dark we heard footsteps stealthily approaching our hiding-place. How anxiously we listened! Was there more than one person's step? Yes, there were two of them. We could hear voices. What should we do? Run now, while we had a chance, or wait and fight? If they were after us, they would of course be armed. Now they were coming again. We could hear them breathe.
"Say, Joe! I tell you dey was just de patroles foolin' ye, boy. Dey warn't no Yankees—dey's just tryin' to see wot you'd do ef dey was Yankees, an' dey'll gib you de debbil."
"I know bett'n dat. Didn't I talk wid dem, an' didn't dey talk Yankee? 'Sides, two ob dem had on blue coats. Tell ye I know dey was Yankees, an' I'se goin' to find dem an' gib dem someting to eat."