The darkey appeared delighted at the effect his sudden appearance had created, and continued for some time to chuckle in great glee.
“Yas! here be de ’dentical nigger wot you was a-wishin’ for. You hab found him ’ithout gwin far. He, he, he!”
Wacora turned sternly towards him.
“And having found you, wretch, I mean to keep you till I’ve made you speak the truth.”
“De trufe, Massa Injun, am what dis ole nigga always ’peak. He can’t help it, kase it comes so na’tral to him. Trufe an’ innocence is dis chile’s on’y riches, tank heaven!”
The look which accompanied this impious speech was almost diabolical.
Wacora cut him short in an attempt to continue his speech, by a command instantly to make known what Warren Rody wanted, with what message he had been charged, and to whom.
Crookleg, however was not easily taken at a disadvantage.
“Well, Massa Injun, I don’t mind tellin’ you somet’ing, but I don’t like talkin’ afore other folk. You send dis indiwiddle away,” pointing to Maracota, “an’ ole Crook’ll tell you all about it. He meant to do so, when he comed here so sudden.”
With a sign the chief dismissed Maracota, and telling the black to follow, led him a little distance further from the town.