Like a flash Cole had produced his heavy pistol and presented it at the man’s head; but Tom pushed it quickly aside.
“It is Dogberry,” said he, quietly. “Put up your weapon, Cole.”
Cole glanced at the newcomer, and then a broad grin of recognition spread across his face. It was a negro slave belonging to the Foster place, and he lay flat upon his back, staring at them with great, round eyes, while an expression of mingled fear, amazement and doubt rested upon his ebony countenance.
“Well, Dogberry,” said Tom, laughing at the negro’s remarkable entrance on the scene. “Suppose you tell us all about this.”
“Mars Tom,” said Dogberry, sitting up, “is dis you, sah?”
“Of course it is. And here’s Cole, too.”
“Lawsee! I done gone ’most broke my black head!” Dogberry stared up into the tree. “Just look how far I fall, Mars Tom. Just you look up there, sah.”
“How came you up in the tree?”
“Mars Foster put me there, sah.”
“Mr. Foster. Impossible.”