“Ebony Jim! Villain and rascal!” he exclaimed, fiercely. “Is it you?—you who deserve shooting without ceremony?”
The colonel’s words seemed to transform the negro. His defiant, courageous look gave way to one of fear.
“Oh, good Lor’!” he exclaimed, fairly trembling, “it’s ole Massa Sanfor’, de poor young missus’ father, and now dis poor nigger’s time am come!”
“Ah! you fear the halter of justice, do you, you black wretch!” exclaimed the colonel, indignantly. “For four years I have hunted you—to shoot you!”
“Oh, good Heaben, massa, I hab done nuffin’!”
“Then what brought you here, and why do you fear me?”
“’Cause, massa, I s’pose you and dem gemman dar come to ’rest dis nigger—”
“For what?”
“Why, you ’members I war hid in de woods when poor Massa Walraven war taken to de Debbil’s Tarn and—”
“Hush! hush! for God’s sake, Ebony, speak not of that affair!” cried the colonel, growing suddenly changed in his tone toward the darky. He spoke so loud that the Irishman was awakened from his slumber.