"Now is the time," he said to Alice, as they stood talking together of
Hugh, and wondering if he were safe. "Something tell me Massah Hugh is
hurted somewhar, and I'se gwine to find him. I knows all de way, an'
every tree around dat place. I can hide from de 'Federacy. Dem Rebels
let ole white-har'd nigger look for young massah, and I'se gwine. P'raps
I not find him, but I does somebody some good. I helps somebody's Massah
Hugh."
It seemed a crazy project, letting that old man start off on so strange
an errand, but Sam was determined.
He had a "'sentiment," as he said, that Hugh was wounded, and he must go
to him.
In his presentiment Alice had no faith; but she did not oppose him, and
at parting she said to him, hesitatingly: "Sam, if you do find your master wounded, and you think him dying, you
may tell him--tell him--that I said--I loved him; and had he ever come
back, I would have been his wife."
"I tells him, and that raises Massah Hugh from de very jaws of death,"
was Sam's reply, as he departed on his errand of mercy, which proved not
to be a fruitless one, for he did find his master, and falling on his
knees beside him, uttered the joyful words we have before repeated.
To the faint, half-dying Hugh, it seemed more like a dream than a
reality--that familiar voice from home, and that dusky form bending over
him so pityingly. He could not comprehend how Sam came there, or what he
was saying to him. Something he heard of burning houses, and ole miss
and Snowdon, and Washington; but nothing was real until he caught the
name of Alice, and thought Sam said she was there.
"Where, Sam--where?" he asked, trying to raise himself upon his elbow.
"Is Alice here, did you say?"
"No, massah; not 'zactly here--but on de road. If massah could ride, Sam
hold him on, like massah oncet held on ole Sam, and we'll get to her
directly. They's kind o' Secesh folks whar she is, but mighty good to
her. She knowed 'em 'fore, 'case way down here is whar Sam was sold dat
time Miss Ellis comed and show him de road to Can'an. Miss Ellis tell me
somethin' nice for Massah Hugh, ef he's dyin'--suffin make him so glad.
Is you dyin', massah?"
"I hardly think I am as bad as that. Can't you tell unless I am near to
death?" Hugh said; and Sam replied: "No, massah; dem's my orders. 'Ef he's dyin', Sam, tell him I'--dat's
what she say. Maybe you is dyin', massah. Feel and see!"
"It's possible," and something like his old mischievous smile played
around Hugh's white lips as he asked how a chap felt when he was dying.