“I’m more surprised than I can tell, Uncle Tom,” said Matt, “to run across you, here on Long Island, and at a time when I certainly needed a friend. It may be that you can help me even more, but——”
“Ah’s pinin’ tuh do all dat Ah can fo’ yo’, Marse Matt,” interposed the darky earnestly.
“But,” went on Matt, “this is hardly a safe place for me. If the coast is clear I guess I’d better crawl out and get into the woods.”
“Yo’s right erbout dat, marse. Ah’s so plumb tickled tuh see yo’ dat I come mighty nigh fo’gittin’ yo’s bein’ hunted fo’. Wait twell Ah take er look erroun’.”
Uncle Tom stepped away from the pavilion and swept a keen glance over the grounds in that vicinity.
“De coast am cleah, Marse Matt,” he announced, returning to the side of the pavilion. “Yo come out an’ hike fo’ de woods, en Ah’ll foller yuh. Den we can talk a li’l, en you can tell me whut mo’ de ole man can do.”
Matt pushed through the broken lattice and gained the timber line at a point opposite the place where his pursuers had vanished. Here, for a time, he was safe, and he sank down behind a mask of brush. Uncle Tom was not long in reaching his side.
“Golly,” he beamed, looking Matt over, “but hit’s good fo’ sore eyes jess tuh see yo’, marse. Ah nevah expected nuffin’ lak dis. Mouty peculiah how folks meets up wif one anotheh sometimes, dat-er-way.”
“How did you happen to wander in this direction, Uncle Tom?” Matt asked.