"They have threatened to shoot the negro if he don't ferry them over to Robertsport," added Deck, who had remained at the window of the shanty. "They called him Cuffy; and when they threatened to kill him, he rushed out of the house. I saw him go into the barn or outhouse in the rear. The men lost sight of him when they followed him out, and perhaps thinking he had gone to his boat, they went off in that direction. Let us find the negro."
They went to the shanty, which did duty as a barn; but Cuffy had concealed himself, and they could not find him. Deck called him by name several times; and if the ferryman was not extremely stupid, he could understand that neither his voice nor his speech was that of the troopers.
"Who's dar?" responded the negro, after a long delay.
"Come out here, and we will help you out of your trouble," added Deck.
"Who be you uns?" inquired Cuffy, which proved later to be his real surname.
"We are your friends."
"Whar dem sogers now?" asked the terrified ferryman.
"They moved off towards the river."
"Den dey done gone to steal my boat!" groaned the negro, coming out of his hiding-place with a gun in his hand.
As the wanderers followed him out of the barn, they saw in the darkness that his head was thickly covered with white wool, and he must have been well along in years. He evidently kept his gun and ammunition in this out-building, for he had a powder-horn and shot-bag suspended from his shoulders.