, who had
hurried out to beseech him to return, he let his rage burst forth.

"I can't help it, Congo, I can't help it!" he said. "They want to take you
from me, do you hear? and that black Republican party up north wants to
take you, too. They say I've no right to you, Congo,--bless my soul, and
you were born on my own land!"

"Go 'way, Ole Marster, who gwine min' w'at dey say?" returned Congo,
soothingly. "You des better wrop dat ar neck'chif roun' yo' thoat er Ole
Miss'll git atter you sho' es you live!"

The Major wiped his eyes on the end of the neckerchief as he tied it about
his throat. "But, if they elect their President, he may send down an army
to free you," he went on, with something like a sob of anger, "and I'd like
to know what we'd do then, Congo."

"Lawd, Lawd, suh," said Congo, as he wrapped the robe about his master's
knees. "Did you ever heah tell er sech doin's!" then, as he mounted the
box, he leaned down and called out reassuringly, "Don' you min', Ole
Marster, we'll des loose de dawgs on 'em, dat's w'at we'll do," and they
rolled off indignantly, leaving the Governor half angry and half apologetic
upon his portico.

It was on the way home that evening that Congo spied in the sassafras
bushes beside the road a runaway slave of old Rainy-day Jones's, and
descended, with a shout, to deliver his brother into bondage.

"Hi, Ole Marster, w'at I gwine tie him wid?" he demanded gleefully.

The Major looked out of the window, and his face went white.

"What's that on his cheek, Congo?" he asked in a whisper.

"Dat's des whar dey done hit 'im, Ole Marster. How I gwine tie 'im?"

But the Major had looked again, and the awful redness rose to his brow.

"Shut up, you fool!" he said with a roar, as he dived under his seat and
brought out his brandy flask. "Give him a swallow of that--be quick, do you
hear? Pour it into your cup, sir, and give him that corn pone in your
pocket. I see it sticking out. There, now hoist him up beside you, and, if
I meet that rascal Jones, I'll blow his damn brains out!"

The Major doubtless would have fulfilled his oath as surely as his twelve
peers would have shaken his hand afterwards; but, by the time they came up
with Rainy-day a mile ahead, his wrath had settled and he had decided that
"he didn't want such dirty blood upon his hands."

So he took a different course, and merely swore a little as he threw a roll
of banknotes into the road. "Don't open your mouth to