‘Why won’t you?’

’Because he’s a d——­d old hypocrite.  He believes in the Union with all his heart—­at least, so Randall, who’s a sincere Union man, says—­and yet, he never sees me at meeting but he preaches a red-hot secession sermon.’

‘He wants to keep you in the faith,’ I replied.

A few more miles of sandy road took us to the mansion, where we found dinner in waiting.  Meeting ’Massa Tommy’—­who had staid at home with his mother—­as we entered the doorway, the Colonel asked after the overseer.

’He seems well enough, sir; I believe he’s coming the possum over mother.’

‘Ill bet on it, Tommy; but he won’t fool you and me, will he, my boy?’ said his father, slapping him affectionately on the back.

After dinner I went with my host to the room of the wounded man.  His head was still bound up, and he was groaning piteously, as if in great pain; but I thought there was too fresh a color in his face to be entirely natural in one who had lost so much blood, and been so severely wounded as he affected to be.

The Colonel mentioned our suspicions to Madam P——­, and suggested that the shackles should be put on him.

‘Oh! no, don’t do that; it would be inhuman,’ said the lady; ’the color is the effect of fever.  If you fear he is plotting to get away, let him be watched.’

The Colonel consented, but with evident reluctance, to the arrangement, and retired to his room to take a siesta, while I lit a cigar, and strolled out to the negro-quarters.

Making my way through the woods to the scene of the morning’s jollification, I found about a hundred darkies gathered around Jim, on the little plot in front of Old Lucy’s cabin.  Jim had evidently been giving them the news.  Pausing when I came near, he exclaimed: 

‘Har’s Massa K——­, he’ll say dat I tells you de trufh;’ then turning to me, he said:  ’Massa K——­, dese darkies say dat Massa Andersin am an ab’lisherner, and dat none but de ab’lisherners will fight for de Union; am dat so, sar?’

’No, I reckon not, Jim; I think the whole North would fight for it if it were necessary.’

‘Am dat so, massa? am dat so?’ eagerly inquired a dozen of the darkies; ‘and am dar great many folks at de Norf—­more dan dar am down har?’

‘Yas, you fools, didn’t I tell you dat?’ said Jim, as I, not exactly relishing the idea of preaching treason, in the Colonel’s absence, to his slaves, hesitated to reply.  ‘Hain’t I tole you,’ he continued, ’dat in de big city ob New-York dar’m more folks dan dar am in all Car’lina?  I’se been dar, and I knows; and Massa K——­’ll tell you dat dey—­’most on ’em—­feel mighty sorry for de brack man.’

‘No he won’t,’ I replied, ’and besides, Jim, you should not talk in this way before me; I might tell your master.’

’No! you won’t do dat; I knows you won’t, massa.  Scipio tole us he’d trust his bery life wid you.’