"I'd jes' like to see the nigga as would do dat," said a young, stalwart negro.
"Pears to me dat you do'no who your frien's is," said another.
It took but a very few minutes to convince me that I had nothing to fear from that party, at all events. I then told them of my companions in the fence corner, and they were called in.
"Now, den, Massa," said the old man, "jest you tell us wot we can do for ye."
"We want something to eat, and we want to cross the Savannah River," I replied.
One motherly old woman, after peering into our faces, asked: "W'en did ye hab anyt'ing to eat las', honey?"
We told her.
"De Lord bress ye, honey, ye mus' be mos' starved!" she cried.
Here the old man broke in. He had evidently been revolving the matter in his mind.