"Den seem to me, sah, you done took de wind out of dat Deacon's sail. He ain't seen de sheriff befoah you."
"That's all right, Rufe, as far as it goes. Trouble is that he'll be in at the inquest to-morrow and he'll swear that it was my quirt did the trick. That is, unless I give him a thousand dollars to keep his mouth shut."
The negro's face changed suddenly from its usual smiling expression. "Den I tell you what, Massa Guy," he exclaimed with sudden ferocity. "You gib me your gun, an' I sw'ar dat man nebber go to dat inquest to-morrow."
Guy knew well that Rufe meant what he said. He was touched. "You're a good chap, Rufe, but I'm afraid your plan is hardly workable. You see you'd be hung, too."
"Not dis nigger! I nebber be found out!" cried Rufe.
"Still we won't try it," said Guy in his quiet way.
Rufe stood silent for some moments. Then he turned to go back to the kitchen.
His silence was ominous.
"Mind, Rufe," said Guy sharply. "No violence. You're not to lay a hand on my cousin."
"All right, sah," said Rufe reluctantly. "I try t'ink ob some odder plan."