Whately's headlong temperament was so overcome by anger that he
noted nothing except the presence of one whom he believed the aider
and abetter in his great loss, for a favorite and trusty horse is
one of the dearest possessions of a cavalryman.
"Where's your grandson?" he demanded, fiercely.
"'Fo' de Lawd, I dunno," gasped Aun' Jinkey.
"The truth, now, or you'll be sorry."
"I dunno, I dunno. Ef he gone, he ain' say neber a word ter me, not
eben good-by."
"No use of your lying. You knew the rascal's purpose. Why didn't you
tell Mr. Baron? Which way did he go?"
"I des declar, mars'r, I dunno."
"You DO know," cried Whately, driven almost to frenzy, "and I'll cut
the truth out of you."
His whip fell before he could arrest it, but it struck the arm and
shoulder of Miss Lou. She had drawn very near, and, swift as light,
had sprung forward and encircled the form of her mammy. There were
startled exclamations from those near, echoed by a groan from the
negroes, and then the girl spoke in stern, deep tones, "You thought
to strike ONE woman, and you have struck TWO.
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