"You shall do more, mother; but first get the supper. I'm hellish hungry, and tired out with the chase I've had. A'drat it! my bones are chilled with the mud and water."
"There's a change in the chest, boy, beside you. Put the wet clothes off."
"It's too troublesome, and they'd only get wet too; for I must start back to the camp directly."
"What camp?"
"Singleton's—down upon the river—five miles below the Barony. I must be there, and let him see me, or he'll suspicion me, and move off. You will have to carry the message to Proctor."
"What, boy! will you go back and put your neck in danger? Suppose he finds you missing?"
"Well, I'll tell him the truth, so far as the truth will answer the purpose of a lie. I'll say that I came to see you, and, having done so, have come back to my duty. They cannot find fault, for the troopers every now and then start off without leave or license. I'm only a volunteer, you see."
"Take care, boy; you will try the long lane once too often. They suspect you now, I know, from the askings of that fellow Humphries; and him too, the other—what's his name?—he, too, asked closely after you."
"Singleton. I heard him."
"What Singleton is that, boy? Any kin to the Singletons hereaway in St. Paul's?"
"No, I believe not. He's from the 'High Hills,' they say, though he has friends at 'The Oaks.' It was there he went to-night. But the supper, mother—is it all ready?"
"Sit and eat, boy. There's hoecake and bacon, and some cold collards."
"Any rum?" he inquired, rising sluggishly from the bed, and approaching the little table which, while the preceding dialogue had been going on, his mother had supplied with the edibles enumerated. She handed him the jug, from which, undiluted, he drank freely, following the stronger liquid with a moderate draught from the gourd of water which she brought him at the same moment. While he ate, he muttered occasionally to his mother, who hung around
