“Marse Joe,” said Harbert one day, “I wuz gwine'long de road de udder night an' I met a great big nigger man. Dish yer nigger man took an' stop me, he did, an' he'low, 'Dey's a little white boy on y o' place which I want you fer ter keep yo' two eyes on 'im, an' when he say come, you come, an' when he say go, you go.' I'low, ''hey, big nigger man! what de matter?' an' he 'spon' back, 'I done tole you, an' I ain't gwine tell you no mo'. So dar you got it, Marse Joe, an' dat de way it stan's.” And so it happened that, humble as these negroes were, they had it in their power to smooth many a rough place in Joe Maxwell's life. The negro women looked after him with almost motherly care, and pursued him with kindness, while the men were always ready to contribute to his pleasure. CHAPTER III--TRACKING A RUNAWAY One Sunday morning, not long after Joe's adventure with Mink, Harbert came to him with a serious face. “Marse Joe,” he said, “dey er gwine ter ketch Mink dis time.” “How do you know?” “Kaze, soon dis mornin' whiles I wuz a-feed-in' de hogs, I seed one er dem Gaither boys cornin' down de road under whip an' spur, an' I ax 'im wharbouts he gwine, an' he say he gwine atter Bill Locke an' his nigger dogs. He 'low dat he know whar Mink bin las' Friday night, an' dey gwine ter put de dogs on his track an' ketch 'im. Dey'll be'long back dis a way terreckly.” The lad had witnessed many a fox-chase and had hunted rabbits hundreds of times, not only with the plantation harriers but with hounds; but he had never seen a runaway negro hunted down, and he had a boy's curiosity in the matter, as well as a personal interest in the fate of Mink. So he mounted his horse and waited for Mr. Locke and young Gaither to return. He knew Bill Locke well, having seen him often in Hillsborough. Mr. Locke had been an overseer, but he saved money, bought two or three negroes, and had a little farm of his own. He had a great reputation as a negro-hunter, mainly because the hunting of runaways was a part of his business. His two dogs, Music and Sound, were known all over the country, and they were the terror of the negroes, not because they were fierce or dangerous, but because of their sagacity. Sound was a small brown hound, not larger than a beagle, but he had such powers of scent that the negroes regarded him with superstitious awe. He had what is called a “cold nose,” which is a short way of saying that he could follow a scent thirty-six hours old, and yet he was a very shabby-looking dog.