“O Massa!” he gasped. “Dey’s gone sot de dogs on me. What’ll I do!”
“Can you swim,” said I,—for to me he was kneeling.
“No, Massa; or I’d been across thisyer sloo fore dis.”
“Can you ride!”
“Reck’n I kin, Massa.”
A burst of baying from the hounds.
The black shook with terror.
I sprang to Fulano. “Work for you, old boy!” said I to him, as I flung the snaffle over his head.
“Take mine!” said my two friends at a breath.
“No; Fulano understands this business. Chase or flight, all one to him, so he baffles the Brutes.”