The Roscomes, father and son, owned but a small plantation, but their hospitality was princely and it was with difficulty he got away for the hill.
Hitching Nat in a grove at the foot, he climbed to the top just in season to see the sunset and the extended view, which had been so familiar to him, so that he felt well repaid. On his way back, and as he was unhitching the horse, he heard voices in the road which ran near the grove.
“I say, me ’earty, I’ve about enough o’ this dirty country. I’d like to put me two legs across the back of a fine ’orse, an’ I’d ask no questions of the owner.”
“Right ye are, Bill. At the speed we’re walkin’ we’ll git to Occoquan about midsummer, I’m thinkin’.”
“They’ve ’orses in plenty ’ereabout to go with their 163 muddy roads. They’d not miss a couple, though they think more of a ’orse than they do of a nigger, I’m told.”
“We’d have two an’ ask no questions, but they’ve both dogs and niggers, an’ one or both always sleeps in the stable.”
“I tell ye wot, d’ye mind the lad and girl go riding by when we was eatin’ a bite beside the road, along back?”
“I did an’ thought ridin’ would do me a sight more good than them.”
“They wouldn’t ’ave no guns an’ would be easy to scare. Suppose if we meet ’em we give ’em the ’int an’ not wait for an answer?”
“We’d have the whole country at our heels.”