With Axe and Rifle | Page 6

waggon, "den turn to de right, and den to de lef', and we are at Massa
Bracher's."

My father drove on as fast as the horses could go, for although the
weather was tolerably warm, my teeth were chattering with cold and
fright, and he was anxious, wet as we were, not to expose my mother
and me to the night air. By following Dio's directions, in less than ten
minutes we reached 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