With admiring eyes I looked for some moments on this bold black man--
this slave-hero. I might have gazed longer, but the burning sensation
in my arm reminded me of my perilous situation.
"You will guide me to Bringiers?" was my hurried interrogatory.
"Daren't, mass'."
"Daren't! Why?"
"Mass' forgot I'se a runaway. White folk cotch Gabr'l--cut off him
arm."
"What? Cut off your arm?"
"Saten sure, mass'--dats da law of Loozyaney. White man strike nigga,
folk laugh, folk cry out, `Lap de dam nigga! lap him!' Nigga strike
white man, cut off nigga's arm. Like berry much to 'bleege mass' Edwad,
but daren't go to de clearins. White men after Gabr'l last two days.
Cuss'd blood-dogs and nigga-hunters out on im track. Thought young
mass' war one o' dem folks; dat's why um run."
"If you do not guide me, then I must die."
"Die!--die! why for mass' say dat?"
"Because I am lost. I cannot find my way out of the forest. If I do
not reach the doctor in less than twenty minutes, there is no hope. O
God!"
"Doctor!--mass' Edwad sick? What ail um? Tell Gabr'l. If dat's da
case, him guide de brack man's friend at risk ob life. What young mass'
ail?"
"See! I have been bitten by a rattlesnake."