"Ah! you think the friendship is not real? There is something—"
"Behin' de bush. Dat dere is fo' sartin; an' dis nigger know it."
"Some influence, perhaps?"
"Yes, mass' 'tranger. Dar am inflooence."
"Of what kind?"
My heart beat quickly as I asked the question—audibly as I listened for the answer. I expected to hear something of Miss Woodley.
"Wal, massa," replied the skiffman, after a short while, apparently spent in cogitation, "I know you Mass' Henry's fr'end, an' doan' know why I shouldn't tell you all 'bout de bizness 'tween youn' Mass' Henry an' Boss Bradley."
"I am your master's friend," I said, to encourage him. "You may trust me, Jake."
"Wal, sar, it war jess dis: one day dey war out in de woods, on a big deer-drive. Dar war Mass' Henry hisself, an' Mass' Bradley—dat war de only day I ebba know him go huntin'—an dar war sebberal odder ob de planters 'bout hya, all huntin' togedder. De drive war oba, an dey'd all sot down to take a spell ob ress, an' eat de vittle dat de niggas hed brought in de wag'n. Den dey got to playin' cards, an' I's b'lieve it war de Boss Bradley dat fuss proposed dem. You know Mass' Henry nebber play, on de cards—dat am, he nebber play fo' money. But dey'd all been a-drinkin'—de hunters an' de planters—an' dar war mint-julep, an' claret sangaree, an' dat 'ere stuff like ginga-beer dey caa sham-pain. So dey all set too to de card-playin', Mass' Henry among de ress. Dey played poker, an' dey played a French game dey caa yuka, an' staked, golly! dey staked as high as a hundred dollar apiece! Ob coas' Mass' Henry knowin' jess nex to nuffin' 'bout de game—he war boun' to lose. Whugh! he did lose. Two thousan' dollars—ebbery red cent! an' who d'ye s'pose he lose 'em to?"
"Who?"