With Axe and Rifle | Page 6

a house of more pretensions than any we had yet seen. It was of one story, and raised on a sort of platform above the ground with a broad veranda in front. Behind it was a kitchen-garden, and plantations of tobacco, and fields of corn on either side. Dio, jumping out, ran to the horses' heads, and advised my mother to go first, taking me with her, and to introduce herself to Mammy Coe.
"Yes, go, Kathleen," said my father, "the good woman will certainly not turn us away, although from what Dio says, she may not receive us very courteously."
The door stood open; as we ascended the wooden steps, two huge blood-hounds rushed out, barking furiously, but Dio's voice kept them from molesting us. The noise they made served to summon "Mammy Coe," a brown lady of mature age, a degree or two removed from a negress, dressed, as I thought, in very gay colours, with a handkerchief of bright hue bound round her head, forming a sort of turban.
"Who you strangers, whar you come from?" she asked in an authoritative tone, as if accustomed to command.
My mother, in a few words, explained what had happened. "We should be thankful to you to allow us to have our clothes dried," she added.
"Yas, strangers, me will gib you dat permission," answered Mammy Coe; "come 'long dis way. Your man too, him want change him clo'," she said, looking out and perceiving my father standing on the steps, still dripping wet. "Dio," she shouted, "take de horses round to de stable and bring in de strangers' tings."
Dio promptly obeyed, glad, I am very sure, that his kind intentions had thus far been successful.
"Come 'long, young woman, and bring de boy. You shall hab supper afterwards, den go to bed, you all right to-morrow."
She led the way to a bed-room on one side of the entrance-hall, where my mother quickly stripped off my wet clothes and wrapped me up in a blanket.
"Him better for some broth!" observed Mammy Coe in a kinder tone than she had yet used. "Now, young woman, you go to me room, and me give you some dry clothes, while your man, him go into Massa Bracher's room."
My father, however, first came and had a look at me and almost the minute afterwards I was fast asleep. When I awoke I saw a person standing near me, dressed so exactly like Mammy Coe, that at first I thought it was her, but I quickly discovered that she was my mother. She had brought me my clothes perfectly dry. I was very glad to put them on and accompany her to supper in the great hall, where several not very pleasant-looking personages were seated at a long table, with Mammy Coe at the head of it. The people appeared to me much alike, with sallow faces, long hair, untrimmed beards, and bowie-knives stuck in their belts. I remember remarking that they gobbled down their food voraciously, and put a number of questions to my father, which he answered in his usual calm way.
Supper was nearly over when the barking of dogs announced another arrival. Soon afterwards a tall man wearing a broad-brimmed hat entered the room, and nodding to the other persons, threw his whip into the corner and took the seat which Mammy Coe vacated. He stared at my mother and me. My father rose, concluding that he was the host, and explained how he happened to be his guest, while Mammy Coe stood by ready to answer any questions if required. My father narrated our adventures, stating that we were on our way to visit my mother's brother, who was supposed to be at the point of death.
"I know Denis O'Dwyer, I guess. He was down with the fever I heard, but whether he's gone or not I can't say. Some pull through and some don't. If you find him alive it's a wonder. However, make yourself at home here, and to-morrow you may start on your journey," observed our host.
My father thanked him, and remarked how much he was indebted to his slave Dio.
"The boy's good property, I guess," answered Mr Bracher, but not a word did he say of the black's gallant conduct, and only laughed scornfully when my father alluded to it.
Our host spoke but little during the remainder of the time we sat at table, being employed as zealously as his overseers and clerks had been in devouring his food. My father then again reverted to Dio, and observed that he was anxious to make a suitable return to the black for the brave way in which he had risked his life in preserving ours.
"He is my property and you may thank me, but I don't want thanks and I don't want a recompense,