Shortly afterward the
door of the nearest cabin opened, and a negro came out and stood on
the steps, stretching his arms and yawning.
"It's the luckiest thing that ever happened to us," said Bob,
speaking only after a great effort. "That's the hostler. He knows me
and will help us if anybody will. Say, Sam," he added, raising his
voice. "Sam!"
"Who dar?" asked the negro, looking all around, as if he could not
make up his mind where the voice came from. "Who's dat callin' Sam?"
"It's me. Here I am, up here on top of this cabin," replied Bob,
slapping the shingles with his open hand to show the negro where he
was.
"Wal, if dat ain't de beatenest thing!" exclaimed Sam. "What you two
gemmen doin' up dar?"
"O, we were coming through here last night, taking a short cut
through the fields, you know, and the dogs discovered us and drove us
up here."
"I thought I heerd 'em fursin," said Sam; "but I thought mebbe they'd
done cotch a 'coon."
"Well, call 'em off and let us go home," exclaimed Lester,
impatiently.
"Dat's impossible, dat is. Dem dar dogs don't keer no mo' fur us
black uns dan nuffin, dem dogs don't. Can't call 'em off, kase why,
dey won't mind us. Have to go arter some of de white folks, suah!"
"Go on and get somebody, then, and be quick about it," said Bob,
desperately.
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