The Major was furious with rage, at first, and sent at once for Uncle Naboth, whom he accused of being at the bottom of the plot to rob him.
Mr. Perkins was so full of his own anxieties that he paid little attention to the red-bearded giant’s ravings.
“I’m afraid Sam’s in trouble,” he said, nervously.
“In trouble! You bet he is,” yelled the Major, “I’ll skin him alive when I catch him.”
“That’s the point,” answered Uncle Naboth. “How are we to find him again? I’ll risk your hurting the boy, if we can only find out where they’ve taken him.”
“Your niggers are gone, too,” the Major reminded him.
“That’s the only thing that gives me hope, sir,” retorted my Uncle. “Those black men are as faithful and honest as any men on earth, and I’m thinking they’re gone after Sam to try to rescue him.”
“Then you think he’s been kidnapped, do you?”
“Of course. The men that are missing are the worst of your lot—the ones that have caused you the most trouble in every way. There’s not a man from the “Flipper’s” crew among them. The way I figure it out is that Daggett, Larkin, Hayes and Judson have made a plot to steal all the gold, and escape with it. They robbed you first, and then they robbed Sam, and when the boy tried to make a fuss they just kidnapped him and took him along with them.”
“How about the niggers?” asked the Major, sarcastically.