"Dun'no', suh," responded Billy, using his favorite formula. "We didn't meet many white folks on de road, an' when we see 'em comin' we hide in de bushes. I 'ain' never spoke ter a human sence we lef Fredericksburg. In the daytime we hide somewh'yar by de road an' sleep, an' we trabbel 'mos' all night. 'Twas de full o' de moon, an' I see dem tracks jes same as 'twas in daytime. Den, arter I los' 'em, dis heah dog, he jes keep de road hisse'f—an' here I is."
"Lance," cried George, suddenly, "please get something for him to eat—anything—everything you have!"
Billy's eyes glistened as, in a moment, Lance whipped out of the press some cold meat and bread, and he attacked it ravenously. Meanwhile George fed the dog, which was evidently the least starved of the two. When Billy had eaten up everything that could be produced for him, he quietly curled himself up near the fire, and in half a minute he was sleeping the sleep of the just.
"What are you going to do with him?" asked Lord Fairfax of George.
"Keep him with me if you will allow me, sir."
"But what will your mother say? He seems to be a strong boy—his journey proves that—and he no doubt has his work at Ferry Farm."
George smiled at the recollection of Billy's "work."
"I don't think, my lord, that Billy is of the slightest use at Ferry Farm unless I am there. My mother, who believes in everybody's being industrious, has done her best to make him work. So have his father and mother, Uncle Jasper and Aunt Sukey. But except for waiting on me, and taking care of my horse, Billy will absolutely do nothing. He is not surly about it—he is always grinning and laughing and singing—but—I can't explain it exactly—he will work his fingers to the bone for me, but he won't work for anybody else."
"I should think Billy was not a very useful member of society," remarked Lord Fairfax.
George said not a word, but he did not like aspersions of any kind on Billy. Seeing this, Lord Fairfax said, in his usual kind tone: