This was the place where Skip Brodie and Dick Denton took their captive.
Dick was well acquainted in this section, having been raised on the north side of the island.
“I am afraid to trust those niggers,” said Brodie, when they reached their boat.
“The fellow I intend to go to is all right,” replied Dick; “and there is no danger of others seeing us, because he lives in the woods, half a mile back of the settlement. I will go and bring him here.”
Denton had not been gone long when he returned with a gigantic colored man, whom he introduced to his pal as Sam Cole.
It was dark, and Skip could not make out the fellow’s features.
Sam led them, by a roundabout way, to his hut, a miserable affair, not suitable for cattle, much less for human beings.
Hilton Field followed in silence; indeed, he had not once opened his mouth to speak since leaving the house of his inhuman son.
“You are hungry, I suppose?” the negro said, stirring up the fire. “I can give you some eels; how will they do?”
“Anything will do, Sam,” replied Denton. “Got anything to drink?”