The chief of the "honest men" laughed again, a clear, ringing laugh that
bespoke supreme confidence in his right to enjoy himself.
"And who is Aunt Fanny?" he asked, covering his patch carefully with his
slouching hat.
"My servant. She's colored."
"Colored?" he asked in amazement. "What do you mean?"
"Why, she's a negress. Don't you know what a colored person is?"
"You mean she is a slave--a black slave?"
"We don't own slaves any mo'--more." He looked more puzzled than
ever--then at last, to satisfy himself, walked over and peered into the
coach. Aunt Fanny set up a dismal howl; an instant later Sir Honesty was
pushed aside, and Miss Calhoun was anxiously trying to comfort her old
friend through the window. The man looked on in silent wonder for a
minute, and then strode off to where a group of his men stood talking.
"Is yo' daid yit, Miss Bev'ly--is de end came?" moaned Aunt
Fanny. Beverly could not repress a smile.
"I am quite alive, Auntie. These men will not hurt us. They are _very
nice_ gentlemen." She uttered the last observation in a loud voice
and it had its effect, for the leader came to her side with long
strides.
"Convince your servant that we mean no harm, your highness," he said
eagerly, a new deference in his voice and manner. "We have only the best
of motives in mind. True, the hills are full of lawless fellows and we
are obliged to fight them almost daily, but you have fallen in with
honest men--very nice gentlemen, I trust.
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