"Ol' Wolverton is comin', Massa Sam," he said. "Don't you make no noise, and we'll fool de ol' man."
In spite of this assurance, poor Sam trembled in his narrow place of concealment. He knew that he would fare badly if his uncle got hold of him.
"How's he coming?" he asked in a stifled voice.
"Otto Brandes is rowin' him. He's in Otto's boat."
"It's mean of Otto!"
"No; he don't know what de ol' man is after."
It took scarcely two minutes for Wolverton to reach the ferry-boat. He mounted it with fire in his eye.
"Now, where is Sam?" he demanded in a peremptory tone.
"You can search for him, Mr. Wolverton," said Bob, coolly. "You seem to know more about where he is than I do."
Wolverton began to peer here and there, looking into bins of wheat and all sorts of improbable places.