"All right, sah," and Nap went to a closet, brought out a whisk, and using it vigorously upon the pantaloons, soon brushed away the mud, which the sun had made very dry. A few blood stains were left, but there was no help for that at present. The coat was taken off with some difficulty on account of the wounded arm, then the boots, and Jackson laid himself down on the sofa and closed his eyes.
Nap threw the coat over his arm, and taking the boots in the other hand went softly out, closing the door behind him. "Safe 'nuff now, I reckon," he chuckled to himself; "guess he not trabble far widout dese."
He was hardly gone, however, when Jackson roused himself and forced his weary eyes to unclose. "As dangerous as to go to sleep when freezing," he muttered. He rose, stepped to the closet door, and opened it.
A pair of boots stood on the floor, a coat hung on a peg. He helped himself to both, sat down and drew on the boots, which were a little too large but went on all the more readily for that. Now for the coat. It was not new, but by no means shabby. He took out his knife, hastily ripped up the right sleeve and put it on. It fitted even better than the boots.
Nap had brought a bottle of wine and left it on the office table, forgetting to carry it back to the dining-room. Jackson took it up, and placing it to his mouth drained the last drop. Then putting on his hat, he stole softly from the house and down the avenue.
To his great joy a boat was just passing in the direction to take him farther from Viamede. He signaled it, and was taken aboard.
"Been getting Dr. Balis to patch up a wound, eh, stranger?" said the skipper, glancing at the disabled arm.
"Yes;" and Jackson repeated the story already told to the surgeon.
The skipper sympathized and advised a rest in the cabin.
"Thank you," said Jackson; "but I'm only going a few miles, when I'll reach a point where, by taking to the woods again, I'll be likely to find my friends; who are doubtless anxious to know what has become of me."