In his wisdom on
nigger nature he will advise a return to the tavern-for it is now
daylight-where they will spend another hour merrily, and then return
brightened to the pursuit. Acting on this advice, friends and
foes-both join as good fellows in the chase for a nigger-followed
his retreat as they had his advance.
"No nigger preacher just about this circle, Major!" exclaims
Romescos, addressing mine host, as he puts his head into the
bar-room, on his return. "Feller's burrowed somewhere, like a coon:
catch him on the broad end of morning, or I'll hang up my old
double-barrel," he concludes, shaking his head, and ordering drink
for the party at his expense.
The morning advanced, however, and nothing was to be seen of
Romescos: he vanished as suddenly from among them as Harry had from
the pen. Some little surprise is expressed by the knowing ones; they
whisper among themselves, while mine host reaches over the counter,
cants his head solicitously, and says:--"What's that, gentlemen?"
In this dilemma they cannot inform mine host; they must continue the
useless chase without Romescos' valuable services. And here we must
leave mine host preparing further necessaries for capturing the lost
property, that he may restore it to its owner so soon as he shall
become convalescent, and turn to Harry.
Like a well-stowed bale of merchandise, to be delivered at a stated
place within a specified time, he was rolled in bagging, and not
permitted to see the direction in which he was being driven.
Pages:
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447