“I can manage it,” said Somers, suddenly, as though a splendid suggestion had occurred to him. “If I take from my Testament one of those pictures, and tell them the person represented wishes to see them, they will go. If they don’t recognize the picture, they will be the more curious to know who it is.”
“May be they will,” replied Turkin, doubtfully.
But it appeared from the story of the negroes that a son of the gentleman in the next house had married a daughter of the planter; that both were at Savannah; and it was finally agreed that the spokesman of the party should say the daughter had suddenly arrived, was quite ill, and wished all the family would come down and see her.
“But I want one of those pictures to write the message on,” added Somers.
“I’ll give yer one.”
“And I want to take it from the Testament. It will look more natural.”
The guerillas thought so too, and by the light of the lantern which one of the negroes brought, he wrote in pencil, “These villains mean to rob your house after supper; get a force and capture them.”
“He’s great at writin’—ain’t he?” said the admiring Turkin.
“Will you look at it?” asked Somers, innocently.
Turkin took the card, and looked at it steadily by the light of the lantern for a moment, and then handed it back to the writer.