vous and scared half out of his
wits. More than one negro had been shanghaied in that way and smuggled
off to sea.

"Know you! I'd know you among a thousand. Have you, too, deserted your
master?" He still held him firmly by the collar of his coat, his voice
rising with his wrath. "Why have you left him? Answer me."

For an instant the negro hesitated, leaned forward, and then with a
burst of joy end out:

"You ain't!--Fo' Gawd it is! Dat beard on ye, Marse Harry, done fool
me--but you is him fo' sho. Gor-a-mighty! ain't I glad ye ain't daid.
Marse George say on'y yisterday you was either daid or sick dat ye
didn't write an'--"

"Said yesterday! Why, is he at home?"

"HOME! Lemme throw a blanket over dis hoss and tie him tell we come
back. Oh, we had a heap o' mis'ry since ye went away--a heap o' trouble.
Nothin' but trouble! You come 'long wid me--'tain't far; des around
de corner. I'll show ye sompin' make ye creep all over. An' it ain't
gettin' no better--gettin' wuss. Dis way, Manse Harry. You been 'cross
de big water, ain't ye? Dat's what I heared. Aunt Jemima been mighty
good, but we can't go on dis way much longer."

Still talking, forging ahead in the darkness through the narrow street
choked with horseless drays, Todd swung into a dingy yard, mounted a
flight of rickety wooden steps, and halted at an unpainted door. Turning
the knob softly he beckoned silently to Harry, and the two stepped
into a small room lighted by a low lamp placed on the hearth, its rays
falling on a cot bed and a few chairs. Beside a cheap pine table sat
Aunt Jemima, rocking noiselessly. The old woman raised her hand in
warning and put her fingers to her lips.

On the bed, with the coverlet drawn close under his chin, lay his Uncle
George!

CHAPTER XXVI

Harry looked about the room in a bewildered way and then tiptoed to
St. George's bed. It had been a day of surprises, but this last had
completely upset him. St. George dependent on the charity of his old
cook and without other attendant than Todd! Why had he been deserted
by everybody who loved him? Why was he not at Wesley or Craddock? Why
should he be here of all places in the world?

All these thoughts surged through his mind as he stood above the patient
and watched his slow, labored breathing. That he had been ill for some
time was evident in his emaciated face and the deep hollows into which
his closed eyes were sunken.

Aunt Jemima rose and handed the intru