ht we got, and I
hearn somebody a-talking, which I was sure was more bugglers; so I made
free to wait and hear what they said."

"It was Captain Pendleton and myself, I suppose," said Mr. Berners, much
annoyed.

"Jes so, sir; it wer Capping Pendulum and yourself, which it hurt me to
the heart as you should have trusted into Capping Pendulum and not into
me--a old and valleyed servant of the family."

"And so, Joe, you overheard the whole matter?"

"Which I did, sir, and shocked I was to think as any false charges
should cause my dear young missus to run away from home in the
night-time, like a fusible slave. And hurt I was to think you didn't
trust into me instead of into he."

"Well, Joe, it appears to me that you were resolved to take our trust,
if we did not give it to you. What brought you here this morning?"

"Coffee, sir," gravely answered Joe, getting up off the hamper and
beginning to untie its fastenings.

"_What?_" demanded Mr. Berners, gathering his brows into a frown.

"COFFEE!" reiterated Joe, as he took from the hamper a small silver
coffee-pot, a pair of cups and saucers, spoons, plates, and knives and
forks, a bottle of cream, and several small packets containing all that
was needful for breakfast.

"Joe! this was very kind and thoughtful of you; but was it quite safe
for you to come here with a hamper on your back in open day?" inquired
Mr. Berners.

"Lord bless you, sir! safe as safe! I took by-paths, and didn't see a
creetur, not one! Why, lord, sir, you had better a-trusted into me from
the beginning, than into Capping Pendulum. Bress your soul, marser,
there an't that white man going, nor yet that red injun, that can aiqual
a colored gentleman into hiding and seeking!"

"I can well believe that."

"Why, marser!--but you don't 'member that time I got mad long o' old
Marse Bertram Berners, 'bout blaming of me for the sorrell horse falling
lame; and I run away?"

"No."

"Well, I was gone three months, and not five miles from home all that
time! And all the constables looking arter me for law and order; and all
the poor white trash, hunting of me for the reward; and not one of 'em
all ever struck upon my trail, and me so nigh home all the while!"

"Well, but you were found at last," suggested Mr. Berners.

"Who, _me_? No, _sir_! And I don't think as I should a-been found yet;
'cause it was a funny kind of life, that run-a-way life, a dodging of
the man-hunters; but you see, marser,