“I sutney is glad to see you. I was mighty feared dee’d keep you in dyah.” He was very full of something he wanted to tell him. Steve did not have time to listen then, but said he wanted him, and took him along.
“Well, jes’ tell me dis, Marse Steve; is you foun’ my young marster?”
“Yes, we have.”
“Well, thank Gord for dat!” exclaimed old Waverley. “Whar is he?”
Steve pointed back to the jail. “In there.”
The old man gave an outcry.
“In dyah! My young marster? My marster and mistis’ son! Go way, Marse Steve—you jokin’; don’t fool me ’bout dat.”
“He’s in there, and in chains; and I want you to cut them off him,” said Steve.
The old man broke out into a tirade. He ended:
“Dat I will! De’s a blacksmiff shop yonder. I’ll git a hammer and cole chisel d’rectly.” He started off. When he arrived, the shop had already been levied on for sledges and other implements.