George turned. "Cato, you imp of darkness," he said, "where did you come from?"
"From de State of New Jarsey," responded the old man, his white teeth gleaming plainly in the darkness. "Well, Mas'r George, I's done followed you, and it took de best horse on de place. I tink you mought need me."
"Then it was you that dodged over there in the road near West Point?"
"Yes, sah, I 'spect so. You come purty nigh gitting away from me once or twice, sah."
"How did you cross the river? How in the world?" exclaimed George, his astonishment driving all other thoughts out of his head.
"On a log raf, youn' mas'r, and it was purty col' work," answered the old negro.
"Cato," said George, impressively, "you must keep away from me, and you must get back as soon as you can."
"Can't I stay wid you, sah?" answered the old darky. "I'll be deaf, dumb, and blind. I knows you are here on some business dat—"
George interrupted him. "I hate to do it, Cato," he said; "but do you see that corner? You get back and around it as soon as you can, and if you meet me again, don't appear to know me, for by doing so you may place a rope around my neck."
The old man did not say another word, but scuttled off.