I seized the dead hound and obeyed, while my comrade prepared to receive the second dog. But that animal seemed more timid. It swerved as the blow was delivered, received on its haunches, and fled away howling in another direction.
Jack at once laid down his leg and sat down on the negro, motioning me to do the same. Then pulling an old tobacco-pipe out of his pocket, he affected to be calmly employed in filling it when the pursuers came up. There were two of them, in straw hats and nankeen pantaloons, armed with cudgels, and a more ruffianly pair of villains I never saw before or since.
“Hallo! strangers,” cried one, as they halted for a few moments on observing us. “Queer place to camp. Fond o’ water and dirt, I guess?”
“You seem fond o’ dirt and not o’ water, to judge from your faces,” replied Jack, calmly, attempting to light his pipe, which was rather a difficult operation, seeing that it was empty and he had no fire. “Ah! my light’s out. Could you lend us a match, friend?”
“No, we can’t. No time. Hain’t got none. Did you see a nigger pass this way?”
“Ha! you’re after him, are you?” cried Jack, indignantly. “Do you suppose I’d tell you if I did? Go and find him for yourselves.”
The two men frowned fiercely at this, and appeared about to attack us. But they changed their minds, and said, “Mayhap you’ll tell us if ye saw two hounds, then?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Which way did they pass?”
“They haven’t passed yet,” replied Jack, with deep sarcasm, at the same time quietly lifting his leg, and swaying it gently to and fro; “whether they’ll pass without a licking remains to be seen.”