“I tell you, Mister Lincoln,” replied a voice which I recognised as the one whose owner had just left me, “I have this minute given the captain the means of escape, through that loophole.”
“Whar!”
“This one,” answered the female voice.
“Wal, that’s easy to circumstantiate. Kum along hyur! I ain’t a-gwine to let yer go till it’s all fixed. De ye hear?”
I heard the heavy foot of the hunter as he approached, and presently his voice calling through the loophole in a guarded whisper:
“Cap’n!”
“Hush, Bob! it’s all right,” I replied, speaking in a low tone, for the sentries were moving suspiciously around the door.
“Good!” ejaculated he. “Yer kin go now,” he added to the other, whose attention I endeavoured to attract, but dared not call to loud enough, lest the guards should hear me. “Dash my buttons! I don’t want yer to go—yer a good ’un arter all. Why can’t yer kum along? The cap’n ’ll make it all straight agin about the desartion.”
“Mr Lincoln, I cannot go with you. Please suffer me to depart!”
“Wal! yer own likes! but if I can do yer a good turn, you can depend on Bob Linkin—mind that.”