"What can we do?" asked Lionel eagerly.
"Why, we play de same trick on him he try play on you. We take all de stuff, go off, an' leab him. He no more find his way out of de Big Cypress dan you. Only Pete know de trails."
"That won't do, Pete," returned Lionel sharply. "I won't be any party to murder."
Pete was amazed. He expostulated strongly.
"No, I'll tell you what we will do, Pete. We'll go off and hide, and let him think he's lost. We'll follow and watch, and when he's got the soul nearly scared out of him we'll find him again. See?"
Pete saw. He chuckled again in high good humor. "Dat's a very fine game, sah. We play dat to-morrow morning. Now I take de things away, an' when Randal wake he find no breakfast, no Pete, no nothing."
"He done lost hisself, sure pop!" declared Pete.
It was nine o'clock next morning, and Lionel Rutherford and the negro had been following Randal for more than an hour.
His language when he woke up and found Pete gone had been something appalling.