When John opened his eyes, he saw Potter sitting on a chair looking at him.
"Well, my young friend, have you enjoyed your nap?"
"Yes, sir. Seein' you sleep so easy, made me sleepy. Now," he continued as he got up, "let's talk erbout me goin' with you."
"All right. I have just thought of a plan that will be better for us than to stroll about the country. There, I see you are disappointed. Let me explain my plan. I thought that we might rent a small farm somewhere in this neighborhood, and together cultivate it. We would not permit our work to interfere with necessary pleasure. We would not strive to make money, but would compel our farm to render us liberal support. In season we could hunt and fish, and beside our own fire-place, we could grow wise in the study of books. I would be your teacher. You spoke of the negro, old Alf. Let him and his daughter go with us. After a few years you would be fitted to go out into the world. Ah, your eyes brighten. You approve of the plan?"
"Yes, sir. If you will learn me how to read I'll go anywhar with you."
"I will take as much pains with you as if you were my son. You may wonder why I wish to settle down in such an out-of-the-way place. After awhile you shall know—I hope."
"Why do you say you hope; kain't you tell me now?"
"No, not now; perhaps never, but I hope to—well, we will talk about that some other time. All I ask of you now is to have perfect confidence in me. It is a strange request, no doubt, but you shall not regret the granting of it. Who is that coming?"
"Alf," the boy replied.
A negro, not very large, and yet seemingly possessed of much strength, climbed over the fence, hung a scythe in a tree, and approached the place where Potter and John were sitting. His face was a study of good humor, tenderness, and quaint thoughtfulness. He was more intelligent than the average man of the neighborhood. He had lived in other parts of the country, and had, before the war, belong to a North Carolina planter.