For an instant he believed himself lost, and while scrambling to his feet he expected to feel the sweep of those sword-like tusks.
But there was no longer any danger; the last discharge had done its work to perfection, and with his knees bent under him, the boar lay just as he had plowed into the mire, having not even rolled over.
Picking up his gun, Ralph hurried to assist the person on the rock, whom he had already seen to be a negro, and whom he now found to be held down by a large stone, which lay upon his legs, he having doubtless pulled it from a position above in his frantic efforts to escape from his pursuer.
The confined black could not help himself; but Ralph succeeded, without much difficulty, in relieving him from the heavy weight.
The stone could not have slipped more than two or three feet, for the negro was not much injured by it, although it had held him so firmly. He had the marks of the animal’s tusks on one of his legs; but the wound was not a dangerous one. Ralph bound his handkerchief around it, and felt very glad to find that the poor fellow was almost as good as new.
Finding himself able to walk, and seeming to realize how much he owed to his young rescuer, the stout negro grasped the boy’s right hand in both his own, and with tears glistening in his eyes, uttered a number of rapid sentences, only a few words of which Ralph could understand, but which were evidently the outpourings of gratitude.
Still, there was in his manner an appearance of apprehension, as if he feared that the lad might not be alone. He would glance furtively about, like one who is expecting an enemy; and it was plain that he was meditating a retreat.
Back of the rocks there was dry, firm land; and in this direction he looked, as if desirous of moving off.
Ralph recalled the conversation which he had heard the day before about the runaway slave.
“This man may be Jumbo himself,” he thought. “I’ll try to make him understand me.”