“But—”
“Mass’ hungry?” inquired he, interrupting me.
I assented.
“Jes thot so. Dar’s nuffin’ yeer to eat ’cept dis ole snake. Mass’ no care to eat snake: dis nigga eat ’im. Cook ’im at night, when smoke ob de fire not seen ober de woods. Got place to cook ’im, mass’ see. Gabr’l truss mass’ Edwad. He take him to caboose ob de runaway.”
He had already cut off the head of the reptile while he was talking; and having pinned neck and tail together with a sharp stick, he lifted the glittering body, and flinging it over his shoulders, stood ready to depart.
“Come, now, mass’,” continued he, “come ’long wi’ Ole Gabe; he find you somethin’ to eat.”
So saying, he turned round and walked off into the bushes.
I took up my gun and followed. I could not do better. To have attempted to find my own way back to the clearings might again have resulted in failure, since I had twice failed. I had nothing to hurry me back. It would be quite as well if I returned to the village after night—the more prudent course, in fact—as then my mud-bedaubed and blood-stained habiliments would be less likely to attract attention; and this I desired to avoid. I was contented, therefore, to follow the runaway to his “lair,” and share it with him till after sunset.
For some hundred yards he led on in silence. His eyes wandered around the forest, as though he was seeking for something. They were not directed upon the ground, but upward to the trees; and, therefore, I know it was not the path he was in search of.
A slight exclamation escaped him, and, suddenly turning in his tracks, he struck off in a direction different to that we had been following. I walked after; and now saw that he had halted by a tall tree, and was looking up among its branches.