And Mohun uttered a laugh.
“Just as I tell you, general—it is the simple, naked truth. When I got to the place, he was struggling to get out of the grave, and his breast was bleeding terribly. I never saw a human being look paler. ‘Help!’ he cried out, in a suffocated voice like, when he saw me—and as he spoke, he made such a strong effort to rise, that his wound gushed with blood, and he fainted.”
“He fainted, did he? And what did you do?” said Mohun.
“I took him up in my arms, general, as I had taken the woman, carried him to my cart, when I bound up his breast in the best way I could, and laid him by the side of the half-drowned lady.”
“To get a reward from his friends, too, no doubt?”
“Well, general, we must live, you know. And did I not deserve something for being so scared—and for the use of my mule?”
“Certainly you did. Is not the laborer worthy of his hire? But go on, sir—your tale is interesting.”
“Tale, general? It is the truth—on the word of Swartz!”
“I no longer doubt now, if I did before,” said Mohun; “but tell me the end of your adventure.”
“I can do that in a few words, general. I whipped up my old mule, and went on through the woods, thinking what I had best do with the man and the woman I had saved, I could take them to Petersburg, and tell my story to the mayor or some good citizen, who would see that they were taken care of. But as soon as I said ‘mayor’ to myself, I thought ‘he is the chief of police.’ Police!—that is one of the ugliest words in the language, general! Some people shiver, and their flesh crawls, when you cut a cork, or scratch on a window pane—well, it is strange, but I have always felt in that way when I heard, or thought of, the word, police! And here I was going to have dealings with the said police! I was going to say ‘I found these people on the Nottoway—one half-drowned, and the other in a newly dug grave!’ No, I thank you! We never know what our characters will stand, and I was by no means certain that mine would stand that! Then the reward—I wished to have my lady and gentleman under my eye. So, after thinking over the matter for some miles, I determined to leave them with a crony of mine near Monk’s Neck, named Alibi, who would take care of them and say nothing. Well, I did so, and went on to Petersburg, where I sold my truck. When I got back they were in bed, and on my next visit they were at the point of death. About that time I was taken sick, and was laid up for more than three months. When I went to see my birds at Monk’s Neck, they had flown!”