For these reasons Aaron was much more anxious to elude6 George Gossett and the patrollers than he was to escape from Mr. Jim Simmons's hounds. He knew he must avoid the negro cabins, which were traps for the unwary when the patrollers were around, and he knew he must keep off the public road—the "big road," as it was called—and not venture too often on the frequently traveled plantation1 paths.
Young Gossett and his companions had a way of dismounting from their horses out of sight and hearing of the negro quarters on the plantations that lay on their "beat." Leaving the animals in charge of one man, they would cautiously post themselves at the various fence crossings and paths frequented by the negroes, and in this way capture all who were going to the negro quarters[131] or coming away. If a negro had a "pass" or a permit from his master, well and good. If he had none—well, it would be a sorry night's frolic for him.
But Aaron had one great advantage over all the slaves who went to and fro between the plantations after nightfall. He had Rambler to warn him; and yet, after an experience that he had on one occasion, he felt that he must be more cautious than ever.
It happened not many weeks before he was hunted by Mr. Simmons's hounds. In trying to kill a moccasin, Rambler had the misfortune to be bitten by the serpent. The wound was on his jowl, and in spite of all that Aaron could do the poor dog's head and neck swelled9 fearfully. When night came the Son of Ben Ali made Rambler as comfortable as possible, bruising10 herbs and barks and binding11 them to the wound, and making him a soft bed.
On that particular night Aaron felt that he ought to visit the Little Master, and yet he was doubtful about it. He finally concluded to wait until late, and then go to the hill where, a few weeks later, he parted from Chunky Riley. If a[132] light was shining behind the Little Master's curtain he would go and drive the red goblin, Pain, from the room.
He went to the hill, and the light was shining. The little red goblin was up to his old tricks. As he went along Aaron fell to thinking about the Little Master, and wondering why the child should be constantly given over to suffering. He forgot all about himself in trying to solve this problem, forgot to be cautious, forgot that he was a fugitive12, and went blindly along the path to the fence above the spring lot. There, without warning, he found himself face to face with George Gossett. The rest of the patrollers were posted about at various points.
Perhaps George Gossett was as much surprised as Aaron. At any rate, he said nothing. He took a half-consumed cigar from his lips, and flipped13 the ashes from it. No doubt he intended to say something, yet he was in no hurry. His pistol was in his coat pocket, his hand grasped the handle, and his finger was on the trigger. He felt that he was prepared for any emergency—and so he was, except for the particular emergency that Aaron then and there invented.
The Son of Ben Ali took off his hat, to show how polite he was in the dark, advanced a step, and then suddenly plunged14 at young Gossett headforemost. Struck fairly in the pit of the stomach by this battering15 ram7, the young man, who was not too sober to begin with, went down like a log, and Aaron ran away like a deer.
The worst of it was that when George Gossett recovered consciousness and was able to call his nearest companion to his assistance, that individual simply laughed at the amazing story.
"Why, it don't stand to reason," he said. "There ain't a living nigger that'd dast to do sech a thing, and the dead ones couldn't."
"I heard you when you fell off the fence," replied the other. "I allowed that you had jumped down to let the blood git in your feet."
"I tell you," insisted the young man, "he come up so close I could 'a' put my hand on him. He took off his hat as polite as you please, and the next thing I know'd I didn't know nothing."
"Shucks!" exclaimed his companion as loudly[134] as he dared to talk; "you jest about set up on the fence there and went to sleep, and fell off. I told you about them low-wines at the still; I told you when you was a-swilling 'em, same as a fattening17 hog18, that if you didn't look out you'd have to be toted home. And here you are!"
Young Gossett had to go home, and as he was the leading spirit the rest had to go with him. He managed to sit his horse after a fashion, but it was as much as he could do. Once in the big road, his companions made many rough jokes at his expense, and they advised him never to tell such another tale as that if he didn't want the public at large to "hoot19 at him."
The adventure taught Aaron a new lesson in caution; and even now, after Mr. Simmons's famous pack of "nigger-dogs" had been all but destroyed, he felt that it was necessary to be more cautious than ever, even when Rambler accompanied him. He had no idea that Mr. Simmons thought his dogs had been attacked by wildcats. In fact, he thought that Mr. Simmons had full knowledge of his movements, and he was prepared any day to see Mr. Gossett gather his neighbors together, especially the young men,[135] surround the swamp armed with shotguns, and try in that way to capture him.
But when night fell on the day of his experience with Mr. Simmons's dogs, he resolved to visit Little Crotchet. He was tired; he had traveled many miles, and had had little sleep, but sleep could be called at any time, and would come at the call. Only at night could he visit the Little Master. In the daytime he could stretch himself on a bed of fragrant20 pine-needles, with odorous heart-leaves for his pillow, and take his ease. So now, after all the turmoil21 and confusion he had experienced in field and wood, he went to the hill from which he could see the light in Little Crotchet's window.
Usually it was late before Aaron would venture to climb to the window, but there was one signal that made it urgent for him to go. When the light was suddenly extinguished and as suddenly relit, it was a signal that Aaron must come as soon as he could. This was Little Crotchet's invention and he thought a great deal of it. And it must be admitted that it was very simple and complete. Sitting on the hill, Aaron saw the light shining through the red curtain. Then it[136] disappeared and the window remained dark for a minute. Then the light suddenly shone out again. The Arab glanced at the two stars that revolve22 around the north star, and judged it was not more than nine o'clock. What could the Little Master want at this early hour?
No need to ask that question; Little Crotchet had a great deal of business on hand. In the first place, while Mr. Simmons's hounds were hunting Aaron, Timoleon, the Black Stallion, had escaped from his stable, and he created a great uproar23 on the place. When the negro who usually fed and groomed24 him went into the lot to catch the horse, he found that the catcher is sometimes caught. For Timoleon, made furious by his freedom from the confinement25 of the halter and the four walls of the stable, seized the man by the shoulder and came near inflicting26 a fatal injury. Nothing saved the unfortunate negro but the fact that Randall, who chanced to be walking about the lot, made a pretense27 of attacking the horse with a wagon28 whip. Timoleon dropped the negro and made a furious rush at Randall; but Randall was in reach of the fence, and so made his escape, while the wounded negro[137] took advantage of the opportunity to stagger, stumble, and crawl to a place of safety. This done, he lay as one dead. He was carried to his cabin, and a messenger was sent, hot-foot, for the doctor, who lived in the neighborhood not far away.
Little Crotchet witnessed a part of the scene, and, oh! he was angry. It was outrageous29, wicked, horrible, that a horse should be so cruel. He sat on the Gray Pony30 and shook his fist impotently at the Black Stallion.
"Oh, if I had you where I could put the lash31 on you, I'd make you pay for this, you mean, cruel creature!"
Singular to say, Timoleon whinnied when he heard the Little Master's voice, and came galloping32 to the fence where the Gray Pony stood, and put his head over the top rail.
"Blest ef I don't b'lieve he know you, honey," said Randall.
This somewhat mollified Little Crotchet, but he was still angry. "Why are you so mean and cruel! Oh, I'll make somebody lash you well for this!"
The Black Stallion whinnied again in the[138] friendliest way. "Is anybody ever see de beat er dat!" exclaimed Randall.
Nothing could be done, and so the Black Stallion roamed about the lot at will, and that night when the mules33 came in from the field they had to be fed and housed under the ginhouse shelter. The White-Haired Master was away from home on business, but the whole plantation knew that he prized Timoleon above all the other horses on the place, and so neither Turin nor Randall would take harsh measures to recapture the horse. They were careful enough, however, to have the high fence strengthened where they found it weak.
This was one of the reasons why Little Crotchet wanted to see Aaron. But there was also another reason. The lad wanted to introduce the runaway34 to a new friend of his, Mr. Richard Hudspeth, his tutor, who had been employed to come all the way from Massachusetts to take charge of the lad's education, which was already fair for his age. In fact, what Little Crotchet knew about books was astonishing when it is remembered that he never went to school. He had been taught to read and write and cipher35 by his[139] mother, and this opened the door of his father's library, which was as large as it was well selected.
Mr. Hudspeth had been recommended by an old friend who had served two years in Congress with Mr. Abercrombie, and there was no trouble in coming to an agreement, for Mr. Hudspeth had reasons of his own for desiring to visit the South. He belonged to the anti-slavery society, and was an aggressive abolitionist. He was a fair-skinned young man, with a silk-like yellow beard, active in his movements, and had a voice singularly sweet and well modulated36. He talked with great nicety of expression, and had a certain daintiness of manner which, in so far as it suggested femininity, was calculated to give the casual observer a wrong idea of Mr. Hudspeth's disposition37 and temperament38.
He had been installed as Little Crotchet's tutor for more than a week. The lad did not like him at first. His preciseness seemed to smack39 too much of method and discipline,—the terror of childhood and youth. And there was a queer inflection to his sentences, and his pronunciation had a strange and an unfamiliar40 twang. But these things soon became familiar to the lad, as[140] Mr. Hudspeth, little by little, won his attention and commanded his interest. The Teacher (for he was emphatically a Teacher in the best sense, and not a Tutor in any sense) saw at the beginning that the dull routine of the text-books would be disastrous41 here, both to health and spirits. And so he fell back on his own experience, and became himself the mouthpiece of all good books he had ever read, and of all great thoughts that had ever planted themselves in his mind. And he entered with real enthusiasm into all Little Crotchet's thoughts, and drew him out until the soul of the lad would have been no more clearly defined had every detail been painted on canvas and hung on the wall before the Teacher's eyes.
It was this Teacher that Little Crotchet wanted Aaron to see, a fact which, taken by itself, was sufficient evidence that the lad had grown fond of Mr. Hudspeth. Little Crotchet was very cunning about it, too. He invited the Teacher to come to his room after tea, and when Mr. Hudspeth came the lad, lying upon his bed, put the question plumply:—
"Do you want to see my runaway?"
"Your runaway? I don't understand you."
[141]
"Don't you know what a runaway is? Why, of course you do. A runaway negro."
"Ah! a fugitive slave. Yes; I have seen a few."
"But you've never seen my runaway at all. He isn't a negro. He's an Arab. I'll let you see him if you promise never to tell. It's a great secret. I'm so small, and—and so crippled, you know, nobody would ever think I had a runaway?"
"Never fear me. Do you keep him in a box and permit only your best friends to peep at him occasionally?"
"Oh, no," said Little Crotchet, laughing at the idea. "He's a sure-enough runaway. He's been advertised in the newspapers. And they had the funniest picture of him you ever saw. They made him look like all the rest of the runaways42 that have their pictures in the Milledgeville papers,—a little bit of a man, bare-headed and stooped over, carrying a cane43 on his shoulder with a bundle hanging on the end of it. Sister cut it out for me. I'll show it to you to-morrow."
Mr. Hudspeth was very much interested in the runaway, and said he would be glad to see him.
[142]
"Well, you must do as I tell you. If I could jump up and jump about I wouldn't ask you, you know. Take the candle in your hand, go out on the stair landing, close the door after you, and stand there until you hear me call."
Mr. Hudspeth couldn't understand what all this meant, but he concluded to humor the joke. So he did as he was bid. He carried the candle from the room, closed the door, and stood on the landing until he heard Little Crotchet calling. When he re?ntered the room he held the candle above his head and looked about him. He evidently expected to see the runaway.
"This is equal to joining a secret society," he said. "Where is your runaway? Has he escaped?"
"I just wanted to make the window dark a moment and then bright again. That is my signal. If he sees it, he'll come. Don't you think it's cunning?"
"I shall certainly think so if the runaway comes," replied Mr. Hudspeth somewhat doubtfully.
"He has never failed yet," said Little Crotchet. "If he fails now, it will be because Jim Simmons's[143] hounds have caught him, or else he is too tired to come out on the hill and watch for the signal."
"Were the bloodhounds after him?" inquired Mr. Hudspeth, with a frown.
"Bloodhounds!" exclaimed Little Crotchet. "I never saw a bloodhound, and I never heard of one around here. If my runaway is caught, the dog that did it could be put in the pocket of that big overcoat you had strapped44 on your trunk."
The lad paused and held up his finger. His ear had caught the sound of Aaron's feet on the shingles45. There was a faint grating sound, as the window sash was softly raised and lowered, and then the Son of Ben Ali stepped from behind the curtain. He stood still as a statue when his eye fell on the stranger, and his attitude was one of simple dignity when he turned to the Little Master. He saw the lad laughing and he smiled in sympathy.
"He's one of us," said Little Crotchet, "and I wanted him to see you. He's my teacher. Mr. Hudspeth, this is Aaron."
Mr. Hudspeth grasped Aaron's hand and shook[144] it warmly, and they talked for some time, the Son of Ben Ali sitting on the side of Little Crotchet's bed, holding the lad's hand in one of his. Aaron told of his day's experiences, and his description of the affair in the Swamp was so vivid and realistic that Mr. Hudspeth exclaimed:—
"If that were put in print, the world would declare it to be pure fiction."
"Fiction," said Little Crotchet to Aaron, with an air of great solemnity, "fiction is a story put in a book. A story is sometimes called a fib, but when it is printed it is called fiction."
Mr. Hudspeth laughed and so did Aaron, but Aaron's laugh had a good deal of pride in it.
"He's crippled here," remarked Aaron, touching46 Little Crotchet's legs, "but not here,"—touching the boy's head.
"But all this is not what I called you for," said Little Crotchet after a while. "Timoleon tore his stable door down to-day and came near killing47 one of the hands. He is out now. Father will be angry when he comes home and hears about it. Can't you put him in his stable?"
"Me? I can lead the grandson of Abdallah all around the plantation by a yarn48 string," Aaron declared.
"Well, if you had been here to-day you'd have found out different. You don't know that horse," Little Crotchet insisted.
"He is certainly as vicious a creature as I ever saw," remarked the Teacher, who had been an amazed witness of the horse's performances.
"I'll show you," Aaron declared.
"Oh, no!" protested Little Crotchet. "Don't try any tricks on that horse. He's too mean and cruel. If you can get him in his stable, and fasten him in, I'll be glad. But don't go near him; he'll bite your head off."
Aaron laughed and then he seemed to be considering something. "I wish"—He paused and looked at Little Crotchet.
"You wish what?" asked the lad.
"I wish you might go with me. But it is dark. The moon is a day moon. I could tote you to the fence."
"And then what?" asked Little Crotchet.
"You could see a tame horse—the grandson of Abdallah."
"I'll go to the fence if you'll carry me," said[146] Little Crotchet. "The air is not cold—no wind is blowing."
"Shall I go too?" asked Mr. Hudspeth.
"I'd be glad," said Aaron.
So, although the night was not cold, Aaron took a shawl from the bed and wrapped it about Little Crotchet, lifted the lad in his arms, and went softly down the stairway, Mr. Hudspeth following. The night was not so dark after all. Once away from the light, various familiar objects began to materialize. The oaks ceased to be huge shadows. There was a thin, milk-white haze49 in the sky that seemed to shed a reflection of light on the earth below.
A negro passed along the beaten way leading to the cabins, whistling a tune8. It was Randall. He heard the others and paused.
"It's your turn to tote," said Aaron.
"Who?" exclaimed Randall.
"The Little Master," replied Aaron.
Randall laughed. Who talked of turns where the Little Master was concerned? When it came to carrying that kind of burden, Randall was the man to do it, and it was "Don't le' me hurt you, honey. Ef I squeeze too tight, des say de word;"[147] and then, "Whar we gwine, honey? A'on gwine in dar en put dat ar hoss up? Well, 'fo' he go in dar less all shake han's wid 'im, kaze when we nex' lay eyes on 'im he won't hear us, not ef we stoop down and holler good-by in his year."
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1
plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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elude
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| v.躲避，困惑 | |
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7
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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8
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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9
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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13
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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14
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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15
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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butted
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| 对接的 | |
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fattening
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| adj.（食物）要使人发胖的v.喂肥( fatten的现在分词 )；养肥（牲畜）；使（钱）增多；使（公司）升值 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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25
confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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inflicting
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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28
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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32
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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33
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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36
modulated
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| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
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37
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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40
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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41
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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42
runaways
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| （轻而易举的）胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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43
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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44
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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45
shingles
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| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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47
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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48
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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49
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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50
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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