“Lordy, Boss,” stuttered the now thoroughly frightened man, “Don’t youall point that there thing mah way no mo’.  Ah don’t like hit—­Ah pointedly does not.  Youall needn’t be afraid of me.”

“Nobody’s afraid of you, you big lummix!” declared Tom, now coming forward.  “What’s your name, anyhow?” he demanded.

“Mah name’s Doright Abraham Jefferson Davis Canaan.  Ah don’ know de rest ob it.  Ah ’spects dey done forgot to tell me all.”

“Well it’s a good thing your shoulders are broad enough to carry that much of a load,” laughed the boys.  “That’s enough.”

“Now then, Doright Whatsyourname Canaan,” Jack began, “can you tell us where we are?  It is dark in these woods and we don’t know this country at all.  Tell me where we are at.”

“Well, sah,” began the darky, “Youall is ’bout half way to West Pascagoula.  Yaas, sir, Boss, dat am a sure ’nuf fac’.”

“Good!  That’s enlightening!” Frank put in.  “Now tell me is there a place nearby.  I mean does anyone live near here?”

“No, sir,” replied Doright.  “Ah can show youall where they was onct, but they haint there no mo’.  Done moved!”

“Lead on, Doright,” commanded Jack, “and be careful on what road you set your feet.  We have lost our two comrades and we are trying to find them.  Our noble dog here has trailed them thus far, and he’ll help us find the boys, but you can do it more quickly.”

In answer, Doright turned and beckoned the boys to follow.  He led them in a short time to the site of the cabin in the clearing.  There the lads found only a few smoking pieces of timber and a huge bed of embers.  Tom’s nose was sniffing suspiciously.

“Do you get it again?” asked Frank.  “I do, and it’s plain as can be in here.  Seems mighty funny, too!” he declared.

“It is peculiar,” agreed Tom.  “I can get the odor of burned flesh as plain as day.  I wonder what this fellow knows.”

“Doright,” demanded Frank, pulling his automatic from his pocket and presenting it muzzle foremost towards the giant, “tell us what happened to the boys.  Tell it quick and straight.”

Quaking with fear, the negro told of the call of the boys late in the afternoon; of his preparing supper; of the rage of Lopez; of his command to tie the boys; of his own sleepiness when thinking the boys were safe and of finding the cabin afire.

He maintained that he had remained as long as it was possible to hope for the boys’ safety, and then had started off in search of Lopez or Wyckoff to give them the news.

His fear was so genuine and his grief over the fact that he had been unable to do anything to save their chums so intense that the boys could not find it in their hearts to chide him further.

“Never mind, Doright,” Tom exclaimed laying a hand on the broad shoulder of the negro.  “We believe you did all you could and that you tried to live up to your name and to do right.  Don’t grieve.”