"You will be, if you don't mind what you are about," said Dan, as he took the tiller; and putting it up, the boat gathered fresh headway, and soon shot out of reach of the bloodhounds.
"Why don't you shoot de wicked dogs?"
"I don't want any more noise. I hate the dogs as bad as you do, but we must be careful," replied Dan. "Now, can you mind what you are about, and keep the sails full."
"Dis chile kin do dat, for sartin."
"If you don't the dogs will have you. Now, be careful, and I will go forward, and take care of the poor fellow, who is nearly dead. Watch the sails; never mind the dogs; they can't catch you, if you sail the boat properly."
"You kin trus dis chile for dat. Cyd isn't afeerd ob notin, only he don't want to be eat up by de wicked dogs."
Dan went forward, where Lily was bending over the panting runaway, rubbing his temples, and speaking sweet words of hope and comfort to him. In a short time he was in some measure recovered from the effects of his fearful struggle with the fate that beset him.
"I was sure I was caught, when I saw de boat," said he, as he raised himself to a sitting posture, and gazed with astonishment at those who had so singularly proved to be friends, instead of foes.
"Are there any men on your track?" asked Dan, who could not lose sight of the peril he had incurred by this Samaritan act.
"I speck dar is," replied he. "I hear dem off eber so far, but I don't see dem."