Part 14 (1/2)
”He needs rest. He is all worn out. He may have run for miles before he took to the water.”
”Can't we give him something? There is some cold tea in the cabin.”
”I will get him something,” added Dan; and he ran aft and entered the cabin.
He returned in a moment with a bottle and a tumbler. The fugitive still lay upon the deck, panting and groaning like a dying gladiator after the mortal struggle of the arena. Freedom was worth the exertion he had made, though every fibre in his frame had been strained. He had manfully fought the battle, though without the interference of our party he would certainly have lost the day. Dan poured out a tumblerful of the wine which the bottle contained, and placed it at the lips of the sufferer.
He eagerly drank off the draught, and sank back upon the deck.
”He will be better soon. He is all out of breath,” said Dan, as he brought one of the cus.h.i.+ons from the standing room and put it under the poor man's head.
”Gossifus!” shouted Cyd, who still retained his position at the helm, though his interest in the scene of the forward deck caused him to steer very badly. ”Hossifus!” added he, in gasping tones; ”de dogs! de dogs!”
”What's the matter, Cyd?” demanded Dan.
”De dogs! Dey done eat dis chile all up! Dey won't leabe de ghost ob a grease-spot luff of dis n.i.g.g.e.r!” cried Cyd, in mortal terror.
”Mind how you steer, then!” replied Dan, hastening to the a.s.sistance of his terrified companion. ”Don't you see you have thrown her up into the wind, so that the sails don't draw a bit!”
”Mossifus! dis chile don't wan't to be food for de dogs.”
”You will be, if you don't mind what you are about,” said Dan, as he took the tiller; and putting it up, the boat gathered fresh headway, and soon shot out of reach of the bloodhounds.
”Why don't you shoot de wicked dogs?”
”I don't want any more noise. I hate the dogs as bad as you do, but we must be careful,” replied Dan. ”Now, can you mind what you are about, and keep the sails full.”
”Dis chile kin do dat, for sartin.”
”If you don't the dogs will have you. Now, be careful, and I will go forward, and take care of the poor fellow, who is nearly dead. Watch the sails; never mind the dogs; they can't catch you, if you sail the boat properly.”
”You kin trus dis chile for dat. Cyd isn't afeerd ob notin, only he don't want to be eat up by de wicked dogs.”
Dan went forward, where Lily was bending over the panting runaway, rubbing his temples, and speaking sweet words of hope and comfort to him. In a short time he was in some measure recovered from the effects of his fearful struggle with the fate that beset him.
”I was sure I was caught, when I saw de boat,” said he, as he raised himself to a sitting posture, and gazed with astonishment at those who had so singularly proved to be friends, instead of foes.
”Are there any men on your track?” asked Dan, who could not lose sight of the peril he had incurred by this Samaritan act.
”I speck dar is,” replied he. ”I hear dem off eber so far, but I don't see dem.”
”Can they chase you on the lake?”
”I speck dey can. Dey'll get a boat and follor de dogs.”
”Where are you from?” asked Lily.
”From Major Pembroke's plantation, 'bout ten mile from dese yere parts, I speck.”
”How long since you run away?”