"What you s'pose dey's gwine to do for
sheltah for dem po' chillen?"
"Dat ain't no concern ob mine," returned Jim indifferently. "Ise consarned
'bout getting young Marse Ed'ard safe home, an' don't care nuffin' for all
de white trash in de country. Jes hitch yo' hoss an' help me lift him into
de wagon."
"What's de mattah?" queried Pete, leisurely dismounting and slowly
hitching his horse to a tree.
"Oh you hurry up, you ole darky!" returned Jim impatiently. "Mr. Ed'ard's
lyin' dar in de cold; 'catch his diff if you's gwine to be all night 'bout
gittin' to him."
"Ise got de rheumatiz, chile; ole folks can't turn roun' like young uns,"
returned Pete quickening his movements somewhat as he clambered over the
fence and followed Jim to the spot where Eddie lay.
"Hurt, sah?" he asked.
"A little; I fear I can hardly sit my horse--for this faintness," Eddie
answered, low and feebly. "Can you put me into your wagon and drive me to
Ion?"
"Yes, sah; wid de greatest pleasah in life, sah. Mr. Travilla and de Ion
ladies ben berry kind to me an' my ole woman and de chillen."
Mrs. Smith and her dirty ragged little troop had gathered round, still
crying over their fright and their losses, curious too about the young
gentleman who had saved the baby and was lying there on the ground so
helpless.
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