The pain in my heart caused by the theft of Silver Heels was in no degree lessened as we journeyed on, now listening to what little Frenchie had to say regarding the situation of affairs at York Town, and again, either Saul or I breaking out in some wild plan for regaining possession of our horses, which, if put into execution, would have led to our arrest, if not to our death.
Then we were arrived home, and although I might have expected it, I was thoroughly surprised at finding everything in confusion. The greatest excitement prevailed everywhere among the people, and work was seemingly at a stand-still.
As a matter of course, my father was not at home, he being with the American army somewhere in the North, and I wondered much that Dalton, the overseer, had not set matters straight, for many hours had elapsed since the visit of the red-coated thieves.
Uncle 'Rasmus was the only one among the slaves or the servants who appeared to have regained possession of his senses, and he was sitting in the stable-yard as I had seen him almost every day of my life when the sun was shining, meditatively chewing a straw and looking straight ahead as if he could see in the distance that which was not visible to other eyes.
The old fellow was apparently unmoved by the bustle and confusion everywhere around him, and I, certain of finding in him a sympathizer, went to speak with him even before visiting my mother.
"Are all the horses gone, Uncle 'Rasmus?" I asked, seating myself by his side, while Saul and Pierre followed my example.
"All de saddle hosses, chile. De Britishers done took ebery las' hoof dat was wuff takin'."
"And Silver Heels with them," I said in a tearful voice.
"Yes, chile, Silber Heels is wid de res'. I kind'er 'lowed it was gwine ter break your heart, honey, but dere was nuffin' ole 'Rasmus could do to stop it, kase it seemed like dis yere stable-yard was plum full ob red-coats, all ob 'em swearin' an' laughin', till it seemed like dey was jes' achin' to 'buse some ob us niggers scandalous, an' I 'low dey would, ef we'd giben 'em de least little word ob back talk."
"Do you know who sent them here, Uncle 'Rasmus?" Saul asked suddenly, and the old negro nodded his head as he replied:
"I'se done gone hab my 'spicions, chile. Dere's plenty ob plantations nearer de town ob York dan dis yere, an' yet 'cordin' to what I heard de sogermen say, dey haben't been anywhere else yet. So I was 'lowin' dat some ob de folks 'roun' here, dem as claim to hab a mighty big love for us, set 'em on."
"Can't you guess who it was, Uncle 'Rasmus?" Saul continued, and the old man replied in a dreamy tone:
"I done hab my 'spicions; but in dese yere times when you don' know who's your friend more'n half de time, dere ain' any sense in talkin' right out what you'se tinkin'. I'se 'lowin' I can guess who set de red-coats aflame."
"You couldn't guess in a week," Saul interrupted, "because you're thinking it might be some one of the planters, like Master Sims, instead of which it was that worthless son of his – Horry."
Watching Uncle 'Rasmus closely, I fancied that this information was not new to him, and straightway fell awondering how it was that this old negro who seldom strayed out of the stable-yard, let alone going away from the plantation, should have an inkling of what might be done so far away as the Sims place.
"Pierre has been to York Town, Uncle 'Rasmus, and he knows where Silver Heels and Saul's mare are quartered."
"An' is dat all he knows, chile?"
"It strikes me that's finding out considerable in one day," and then I explained how it was little Frenchie was able to move about York Town as he had, after which Uncle 'Rasmus asked in a hopeful tone:
"Did he fin' out, chile, which ossifer was gwine to ride Silber Heels, an' which one laid his mark on Saul's mare?"
As a matter of course Pierre could not give the information; but he explained with great minuteness where the horses were stabled, and I was impatient with him because of wasting so many words when it could do no good.
Much to my surprise Uncle 'Rasmus drank it all in, and when little Frenchie had come to an end of his overly long story the old negro said, taking the straw from his mouth and holding it in the air as if to ascertain from which direction came the wind:
"I reckon I'se 'bleeged to be goin', chillun. For an ole man like Uncle 'Rasmus it's quite a journey from here to de town ob York, an' ef I counts on doin' it 'twixt now an' sunrise, I'd better get my ole legs amovin'."
"York Town, Uncle 'Rasmus?" I cried in surprise, and well I might, for within the past three years I had never seen the old negro go as far from the house as the cotton fields.
"Dat's what I said, chile, an' I'se 'bleeged to be amovin'."
"But why are you going there, Uncle 'Rasmus?" I cried, catching him by the arm to insure his attention, and he replied dreamily, but, as it seemed to me, with a certain air of decision:
"I 'low it's time I was lookin' arter Marse Hamilton's house down yander, whar ole Mary libed when he done set her free."
"There's no need of your looking after that old shanty, Uncle 'Rasmus," I cried. "Surely father gives no heed to it now; it isn't worth half a dozen shillings, except for firewood."
"I know dat, honey; I'se done foun' all dat out, but sumfin's tellin' me dat it's time I was lookin' arter Marse Hamilton's property what's been lef dere in de town ob York, whar de Britishers am rampagin' an' rarin' 'roun' like dey was gone crazy."
"But you'll starve to death there, Uncle 'Rasmus. I don't fancy there are very many of old Mary's goods left in the hovel, for if I remember rightly young Dinah laid claim to the greater portion, and how will you get along for something to eat?"
"I was kind'er 'lowin', chile, as how you an' Saul, an' maybe little Pierre as you call him, would tend out on de ole man, des enough to fetch now an' den what he was needin' to hol' de soul in his body."
"But if, as Pierre says, the British entrenchments run back of the town as far as the Pigeon Quarter, then old Mary's cabin must be inside, and how would we be able to get through the lines?"
"Well, chile, I ain' got any great lub for de Britishers; but I'se 'lowin' dey ain' so hard-hearted as to hold out a couple ob chillun what wanted to feed a pore ole nigger. It kind'er seems as if dey'd be 'shamed to let your Uncle 'Rasmus starbe, eben ef he is no 'count kase ob bein' so ole, specially ef all dey'd hab to do to keep him erlong, was to let a couple or three chillun in de lines."
It was all blind to me, this sudden whim of Uncle 'Rasmus to take up his quarters in old Mary's cabin, which was hardly more than the veriest shanty, and while I stood looking at the old man, trying to get some glimmer of truth out of what was fast becoming a mystery, little Frenchie's face lighted up wondrously, as he leaped forward, seizing the old darkey by both hands while he cried joyously:
"It's a great plan, Uncle 'Rasmus, it's a great plan! I'll go with you a good part of the way so's to help along, for of course you count on carrying something."
"I spects I'se boun' to hab a blanket, chile, an' sumfin in de way ob food, kase I ain' sich a foolish ole nigger as to tink I could get trou a sogerman's lines in de night, an' so I'll be needin' sumfin for a bed ef nothin' more."
"But if you are foolish enough to go to York Town, what's the sense of starting to-night? Why not wait till morning? You say yourself you don't expect to get through the lines after dark, therefore why sleep on the ground when you could stay here in comfortable quarters?" Saul cried, whereupon Pierre, turning from Uncle 'Rasmus, said to the lad:
"Can't you understand that this old negro is paving a way for you and Fitz to get at your horses?"
"I may be a thick-head; but I surely can't see how taking up his quarters in old Mary's cabin, where we've got to carry food to him every day or two, is helping us along very fast," Saul cried angrily, and little Frenchie, throwing back his shoulders, laughed heartily, finding something so