"I know what yo' want. She ain't to cry out or nothin' when she
sees you-all. I got sense enough fo' that."
Carrington looked at her curiously.
"This may be a serious business for your people," he said
significantly, and watched her narrowly.
"And you-all may get killed. I reckin if yo' want to do a thing
bad enough you don't mind much what comes after," she answered
with a hard little laugh, as she went from the shed.
"Come!" said Carrington to the negro, when he had seen the cabin
door close on Bess and her lantern; and they stole across the
clearing. Reaching the bayou side they began a noiseless search
for the dugout, which they quickly found, and Carrington turned
to George. "Can you swim?" he asked.
"Yes, Mas'r."
"Then go down into the water and drag the canoe farther along the
shore--and for God's sake, no sound!" he cautioned.
They placed a second hundred yards between themselves and the
keel boat in this manner, then he had George bring the dug-out to
the bank, and they embarked. Keeping within the shadow of the
trees that fringed the shore, Carrington paddled silently about
the head of the bayou.
"George," he at length said, bending toward the negro; "my horse
is tied in the woods on the right-hand side of the road just
above where you were taken from the carriage last night--you can
be at Belle Plain inside of an hour."
"Look here, Mas'r Ca'ington, those folks yonder is kin to Boss
Hicks. If he get his hand on me first don't you reckon he'll
stop my mouth? I been here heaps of times fotchin' letters fo'
Mas'r Tom," added George.
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