LIFE OAK PLANTATION
… wus'n that, he done tore up a pair o' my best dawgs."
"What!"
"Tew o' my dawgs come up on 'im an' he jes' natchully tore 'em to pieces! Man dear, he jes' made a swipe an' ripped 'em to pieces with his naked han's. He shore mus' be a honey!"
"Do you know who he is?"
"Not sartinly, but there was a big buck nigger seen on this yeah turnpike yesterday pintin' out fer Savannah. We seen his tracks back yonder by the branch and they shore were mons'trous. Come on, boys. Evenin', stranger; thank'ee kindly. Yip—yip—hoo-ee!"
The dog studied the ground earnestly, turned this way and that, worked toward the burnt patch, began to circle. For several minutes he moved slowly about, while Leyden and Giles watched. He reached the other side of the spot where Leyden had burned the grass; sniffed hungrily, then raised his grand head and gave voice to a deep and glorious bay.
"Wh-hoop-ee—ya-ya—yoo-ee—yip-yip!" shouted the men. The leader turned to Leyden and waved his arm.
"He's on!—that 'ere burned spot bothered 'im some. So long!"
"As I intended that it should," muttered Leyden.
"You knew that the man had passed that way?" gasped Giles.
"Certainly," snapped Leyden, for once curt with his favorite. "There were his tracks, large as life; almost large enough, in fact, to have been made by our unfortunate friend—Dessalines."
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