Mass' George

"'Tick 'tuff, great big dirty bit blank in Pomp mouf," he said, angrily.

"No couldn't breve."

He gave himself another rub or two, worked his head about, rubbed behind his back, and opened and shut his jaws softly. Then giving himself a final shake, he exclaimed--

"Pomp quite well 'gain."

"Want something to eat?" I said, smiling.

"Yes, Ma.s.s' George. Pomp dreffle hungly now."

"Oh well, we'll soon settle that," I said; and I looked round for the food, much of which was then lying under the big cypress, close to the heap of ashes I had once called home.

"I'm afraid there is nothing left, Pomp," I said, apologetically.

"Eh?"

"I'm afraid there is nothing to give you," I said.

"What? No go eat all dat and hab not bit for poor Pomp! Oh!"

He swung himself round, threw himself down on his face, and groaned.

Hannibal said a few words in a deep stern voice, and the boy moaned out--

"But poor Pomp so dreffle hungly."

There was something so childishly absurd in his anger that I could not help laughing, the effect being that in his excitable state he turned upon me with a fierce gesture that reminded me of the day he was landed from the slaver.

But at that moment Hannibal's deep firm voice rose in so stern a tone that the boy shrank down again in the boat.

Hannibal spoke again as he continued rowing, and as I listened to the curious sweet-sounding barbarous tongue, I felt as if I would have given anything to have been able to understand what was said.

But though I did not comprehend the words, I did their sense, for Pomp came crawling up closer to me like a beaten dog, and held up one hand deprecatingly.

"Pomp dreffle sorry," he said. "Don't Ma.s.s' George flog lil n.i.g.g.e.r for get in pashum. Pomp so dreffle hungly."

"Oh, I'm not cross," I said, good-temperedly.

"And Ma.s.s' George not flog poor lil n.i.g.g.e.r?"

"I will if you ever say so again," I cried.

"Oh!"

"When were you ever flogged? Did I ever flog you?"

"No, Ma.s.s' George."

"Then why did you say that?"

"Ma.s.s' George often look going flog lil n.i.g.g.e.r."

"Then don't say it again, and you shall soon have something to eat. We are close to the wharf."

For there in full view was the flag flying on its pine-tree staff, and the boats lay off anch.o.r.ed in the river. But the place looked singularly deserted, and it seemed very strange for there to be no one visible idling about, boating, or at work in the

We left the two blacks to moor the boat, after telling Pomp to make haste up and have some dinner, and Morgan and I hurried up to my father's quarters. He was not there, and we learned that he was with the General.

Under the circ.u.mstances we did not hesitate to go to the latter's tent, where we found that a little council was being held, and that Colonel Preston and the princ.i.p.al part of the other gentlemen of the expedition were there.

"Well, sir," I heard Colonel Preston say, "my opinion is that further inaction would be cowardly."

"I am sorry to go against my friend, Colonel Preston," said my father, his voice coming clearly to me from under the looped-up sail which made the tent, "but I feel convinced that in spite of the lesson they have received, the Indians will attack again, and it would be extremely unwise to leave our strong quarters and go to our homes until we are satisfied that we can be safe."

"I must say, gentlemen," said the General, gravely, "that in spite of the adverse opinions I have heard--some of which sounded to me rather rash--I agree with Captain Bruton."

There was a loud murmur here.

"We have our women and children to think of."

"Of course, sir," said Colonel Preston; "and I think of mine as seriously as any man here. But our close confinement is getting painful for them all. We shall be having another enemy in our midst--fever--if we do not mind. Now with all respect for Captain Bruton, I must say he is carrying caution too far. At the slightest alarm we can again take refuge in the fort."

There was a chorus of approval here.

"Our scouts have been out in every direction, and I am convinced that there has not been for many days past an Indian within a hundred miles."

"You are wrong, sir," I said excitedly, as I stepped forward with Morgan close behind me; and at the sight of us both, and what I had not thought of till then, our blood-stained garments, there was a loud buzz of excitement.

"What? Speak out. Are you wounded, boy?" cried my father, excitedly.

"No, father; I have escaped."

"But the Indians; you have seen them?"

"Yes," I said; and in the midst of a breathless silence, Morgan and I told of our terrible adventures that day.

CHAPTER FORTY.

"I am wrong, Bruton," said Colonel Preston, as I finished my narrative, and the last question had been answered--"quite wrong, gentlemen all. I was longing to get back to my comfortable home. Come along. I suppose we may have a fresh visit at any time."

The meeting broke up, and my father led me back to our quarters.

"I ought not to have let you go," he said. "The risk was too great, but I was influenced by the general opinion. Ah!" he continued, as he saw Hannibal standing by our rough tent, "why, my good fellow, you are wounded."

He laid his hand upon the black's arm, and said something in a low voice, but I could not catch his words. I saw Hannibal's eyes brighten, though, and a look of pleasure in his face as he suffered himself to be led to the temporary hospital; and I followed, to find our Sarah sitting up and ready to welcome me with a few sharp snappish words, after her fas.h.i.+on. I have often laughed since at the way in which she showed her affection for me; for that she was fond of me she often proved.