Having reached a spot in front of Frank, the man arose to his full height.  There was a look of trouble on his face.  He had been hunted like a wolf for so long that naturally he believed every man’s hand was against him.

But Frank saw at once that Will had been mistaken when he remarked upon the vicious look of the fugitive.  He had taken the expression of fear for that of maliciousness.

“Well, who are you, and what do you want here?” Frank asked directly.

The black started, and looked at him a little eagerly.

“I’s got lost in de swamp, boss, ‘deedy I has, an’ I smelled de vittals a-cookin’, so’s I couldn’t keep away.  Didn’t mean to skeer yuh, suah I didn’t.  Yuh wouldn’t hurt a pore ole brack man, would yuh, little marse?” he droned, still keeping his eyes fastened apprehensively on Frank and his gun.

“I guess it’s a fairy story he’s putting up, Frank.  They told me about him up at the town.  He answers the description of George Walden, all right,” said Bluff.

Frank saw the man start at mention of the name, and shiver.

“That’s your name, all right, I can see.  Now, George, what have you been doing to make you hide out like this in the swamp?” demanded the other sternly.

“Reckons as how I ain’t wanted ’round dis section, boss.  Ain’t done nothin’ so very ba-ad, but seems like we-uns kain’t git on.  Some o’ the white gentlemen dey got it in fo’ me, an’ it was either a case o’ hidin’ out er takin’ a coat o’ tar an’ feathers.  I reckoned I’d rather lay in de swamp a while.  But, boss, I ’clar tuh Moses I’se mighty nigh starved tuh death, I is.”

The man had evidently come to the conclusion that these Northern lads, with the motor-boat, could hardly be hunting fugitive blacks in the swamp.  He was beginning to recover a little of his courage.

“How about that, Bluff?  What did the people in the town say he had done?” asked Frank.

“Oh, nothing much, only, just as he says, he’s an undesirable citizen around the place.  I think they said he had a weakness for chickens, and could not keep from sneaking into a coop if half a chance presented itself,” replied the other.

Frank smiled.

“Well, I believe that has never been called more than a weakness with a colored man, in the North.  People who keep chickens should see to it that a poor fellow is not tempted beyond his strength.  Locks are cheap enough.  Then our friend George has not been doing anything particularly villainous?”

“‘Deed an’ ‘deed I ain’t, boss.  I’s only wantin’ tuh git outen dis kentry.  I’s got a darter married, an’ livin’ at Chattanooga.  If I kin on’y git up dar, she’d nigh die wid happiness.  An’ if I felt a little stronger I’d try an’ walk de hull way, so I would, young marse!” exclaimed the other eagerly.

They could see him sniffing the air, after the manner of a hungry dog that scents a bone near by.