"Massa Raybone done send us down to fotch you up," said Cyd, gloomily.
"What's the matter, Cyd?" demanded Dandy, trying to be cheerful in the face of these portending clouds of darkness.
"Massa Archy done git a black eye some how or oder, and Massa Kun'l frow 'imself into a horrid passion. Den he roar and swear jes like an alligator wid a coal o' fire in 'is troat," replied Cyd, aghast with horror.
"Well, what then?" asked Dandy, with a long breath.
"Den he send for Long Tom."
"For Long Tom!" gasped Dandy, his cheek paling and his frame quivering with emotion.
"Dat's de truf," replied Cyd, shaking his head.
"Long Tom" was a tall, stout negro-driver, who did the whipping upon the plantation. He was to be whipped! It was a barbarism to which he had never been subjected, and he was appalled at the thought.
At first, he decided not to return. Even the bloodhounds and the perils of the swamp were less terrible than the whipping-post. But he was unwilling to believe that he was to be subjected to this trying ordeal, and impelled by the resolutions he had made, he at last determined to meet his master, and by a fair representation of the case, with an earnest appeal to Archy, he hoped, and even expected, to escape the punishment.
Taking his place in the boat, he was soon gliding swiftly on his way to the plantation.