“Tell me, Jack—quick—tell it all,” exclaimed the old man, still gripping Jack's shoulder.
“There's nothin' to tell except that I kept him ever sence—here—right here for two years, with little Jack an' Ephrum, the young nigger that was his body servant—he's been our cook an' servant. He never would leave Cap'n Tom, followed me offen the field of Franklin. An' mighty fond of each other was all three of 'em.”
The old man turned pale and his voice trembled so with excitement he could hardly say:
“Where is he, Jack? My God—Cap'n Tom—he's been here all this time too—an' me awonderin'—”
“Right here, Bishop—kind an' quiet and teched in his head, where the sword-hilt crushed his skull. All these years I've cared for him—me an' Ephrum, my two boys as I called 'em—him an' little Jack. An' right here he staid contented like till little Jack died last night—then—”
“In God's name—quick!—tell me—Jack—”
“That's the worst of it—Bishop—when he found little Jack was dead he wandered off—”
“When?” almost shouted the old man.
“To-day—this even'. I have sent Eph after him—an' I hope he has found him by now an' tuck him somewhere. Eph'll never stop till he does.”
“We must find him, Jack. Cap'n Tom alive—thank God—alive, even if he is teched in his head. Oh, God, I might a knowed it—an' only to-day I was doubtin' You.”