“What’s wrong, massa?” asked Moses, in much anxiety.
“Nothing, nothing,” said the hermit hurriedly. “I must cross over to see these fellows.”
“All right, massa. I go wid you.”
“No, I go alone.”
“Not widout arms?” exclaimed the negro, laying his hand on his master’s shoulder.
“Yes, without arms!” As he spoke he drew the long knife that usually hung at his girdle and flung it down. “Now attend, both of you,” he added, with sudden and almost threatening earnestness.
“Do not on any account follow me. I am quite able to take care of myself.”
Next moment he glided into the bushes and was gone.
“Can you guess what is the matter with him?” asked Nigel, turning to his companion with a perplexed look.
“Not more nor de man ob de moon. I nebber saw’d ’im like dat before. I t’ink he’s go mad! I tell you what—I’ll foller him wid a rifle an’ knife and two revolvers.”