The pair had drawn to a halt, while I stood uncertain whether to
brave them or make a bid for escape. I heard the negress cry aloud
in a foreign tongue, at the same time flinging up her hands; but the
other pushed past her and walked straight down upon me, albeit with a
mincing, tripping motion, as if she was pacing a dance.
Twice she spoke, and in two different languages (as I recognized,
though able to make nothing of either), and then, halting before me,
she tried for the third time in English.
"Boy"--she looked at me inquiringly--"what you do here--will you
tell?"
"I come from the ship, ma'am," said I, finding my tongue.
"The sheep? He bring a sheep? But why?--and why he bring you?"
I stared at her, not understanding. "Ma'am," said I, pointing over
my shoulder, "we came here in a ship--a schooner; and she is lying in
the creek yonder. I landed and climbed up through the woods. On my
way I found this."
I held out the paper boat. She caught it out of my hand with a sharp
cry. But the black woman, at the same instant, turned on her and
began to scold her volubly. The words were unintelligible to me, but
her tone, full of angry remonstrance, could not be mistaken.
"I am not sorry," said the white woman, speaking in English, with a
glance at me.
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