“The chances are that he remains in this state several days, and your mother will become alarmed if you do not make your appearance,” said the Dominie. “You know your way home as well as I do, and I wish that you would set off alone, while I remain with the black. State what has happened, and perhaps your father will think fit to send the waggon to bring us in.”
As there appeared no objection to this proposal, Dan and I agreed to start immediately. Tears came into the eyes of the negro when we went into the hut to wish him good-bye.
“Oh, massa, you like angel from heaven, so good to poor black fellow,” he exclaimed.
We had a pretty long day’s march before us, for although on a beaten road the distance would have been nothing, we had to make our way through forests and across streams and bogs, some pretty rough hills to climb, and valleys to pass. We carried a portion of the venison with us, which was still uncooked, and felt sure that without going out of our way we should be able to kill something or other to serve us for supper should we not reach home in time. At first we had some difficulty in making our way, and without great care we knew that we might be steering too far to the right or left. Every mile we advanced the country became more and more familiar. At noon we camped, lighted a fire, and cooked the venison. We calculated that by this time we had done about twelve miles, so Dan thought, but I was not quite sure of that. There was no means of ascertaining which was right. “At all events, we must not spend much time here,” I exclaimed, as we finished the last of our venison, and jumping up I buckled on my knapsack, and took my rifle in my hand. Dan was in no hurry to start. Seeing that I was determined to go, he got up, and we trudged on together at the same speed as before. We had not got far when, as we reached the brow of a hill, we caught sight of two men on horseback passing along the valley at our feet. We instinctively drew back, hoping that we had not been seen, but their voices reached our ears hailing us.
“Hulloa! youngsters, have you seen a nigger-boy running in this direction?” asked one of the men as we drew near.
“We have seen no nigger-boy running in this direction,” I replied, such being the fact.
“If you do, just take him along with you, and threaten to shoot him if he won’t move; don’t do it though, for he’s worth a heap of dollars, and if you don’t catch him, some one else will.”
“It’s not our business to catch runaway slaves,” Dan answered unwisely.
“Whew! my young cock sparrow, to whom do you belong?” asked the man, squirting a stream of tobacco juice out of his mouth, which Dan narrowly escaped.
“We belong to our father,” answered Dan, “and to no one else.”