"I can do nothing more for you, Miss De Wolf, indeed, I cannot. I have told you all I know. My journey has been exceedingly painful and perilous, and I am completely exhausted. If I am discovered, I must inevitably lose my life. I do not dread death, but if alive, and you should be captured, I might possibly render you some assistance. Now you must not detain me."
"Well, but who are you," persisted Little Wolf, "that you are able to give me all this information, and yet cannot give me any aid?"
"I can, in all probability, aid you more by going than by remaining," said the other hurriedly. "My skin is stained, my clothes are stuffed to give me this fleshy appearance, but you will recognize me if we meet again. My name is Antoinette Le Claire. Now I must go. The good Lord help you," and she waddled off, in precise imitation of a fat old squaw.
"Now I must be brave," thought Little Wolf, pressing her hand on her brow, while she tried to think what plan to pursue.
Her first thought was for her father's safety, who was, as usual, at the brewery, where he had gone soon after dinner, and as he had not been there long, she hoped he was not, as yet, intoxicated.
Stepping to the door, she hailed daddy, who was busy storing away some vegetables in the cellar, for winter use. "See here, daddy, I want you to go down to the brewery as quick as you can, and tell father—well, tell him I'm sick, and want to see him right away."
"'Tween you and me, honey,"—
"O, go, this minute, daddy," and she shut the door in his face, and proceeded to the kitchen, where she found mammy quietly smoking her pipe in the corner.
"O, mammy, where is Sorrel Top?" said she.
"Sorrel Top, why she's picking grapes for that are jelly you wanted made. I'm going to help her when I git rested, and slick up a leetle."