and so at length I had to go to bed, trusting to this assurance. I went out just before breakfast next morning, and found the horse with only ten dry cobs in the manger. I searched for the boy; could not find him, but was told that my horse had been fed. I said, "I wish to have him fed more—as much as he will eat." Very well, the boy should give him more. When I went out after breakfast the boy was leading out the horse. I asked if he had given him corn this morning.
"Oh yes, sir."
"How many ears did you give him?"
"Ten or fifteen—or sixteen, sir; he eats very hearty."
I went into the stable and saw that he had not been fed; there were the same ten cobs (dry) in the manger. I doubted, indeed, from their appearance, if the boy had fed him at all the night before. I fed him with leaves myself, but could not get into the corn crib. The proprietor was, I do not doubt, perfectly honest, but the negro had probably stolen the corn for his own hogs and fowls.
The next day I rode more than thirty miles, having secured a good feed of corn for the horse at midday. At nightfall I was much fatigued, but had as yet failed to get lodging. It began to rain, and grew dark, and I kept the road with difficulty. About nine o'clock I came to a large, comfortable house.
An old lady sat in the verandah, of whom I asked if I could be accommodated for the night: "Reckon so," she replied: then after a few moments' reflection, without rising from her chair she shouted, "Gal!—gal!" Presently a girl came.
"Missis?"
"Call Tom!"
The girl went off, while I remained, waiting for a more definite answer. At length she returned: "Tom ain't there, missis."
