“Me ask Toby,” said Rose; “he up early, perhaps he see him.”
Toby was the black boy of the establishment, and was a great admirer of Rose.
I heard the judge walking about the veranda. I dressed as rapidly as I could, and went out to meet him. He presented, it must be confessed, a somewhat curious figure habited in his morning costume, a coloured dressing-gown, with a red night-cap on his head, and spectacles on his nose, while he looked puzzled and annoyed in the extreme.
“I trust no one has knocked my guest on the head during the night,” he said. “The Indian has gone—vanished—disappeared! I would not have had it happen on any account!”
“Perhaps he has only gone to stretch his legs, and will return for breakfast,” I observed.
While we were talking, Rose and Toby appeared together, and reported that they could nowhere find the Indian. The judge then sent off Toby and two or three other black boys to make inquiries through the village.
In a short time they returned, declaring that no one had seen him, and that if he had gone, he must have taken himself off during the night.
“I fear the worst then,” said our host. “He would not have gone away without at least paying his respects to me. These Indians are as ceremonious as the courtiers of an emperor.”
We were soon joined by the rest of the party in the veranda, and Rochford seemed more astonished than any one on hearing what had happened. He told us that he had thought of offering to accompany the chief back to his home, that he might have an opportunity of seeing Indian customs and manners.
“Any romantic opinions you might have entertained on the subject would quickly have been dispelled,” observed the judge. “I would advise you, my friend, to keep out of their way, and live among civilised people.”