this inquiry, in a tone that told of a vacillating spirit.
"Do, uncle Woodley! What else but keep straight on? The river must be on the other side? If we don't hit the crossing, to a half mile or so, we can go up, or down the bank--as the case may require."
"But, Cassius: if we should lose our way?"
"We can't. There's but a patch of this, I suppose? If we do go a little astray, we must come out somewhere--on one side, or the other."
"Well, nephew, you know best: I shall be guided by you."
"No fear, uncle. I've made my way out of a worse fix than this. Drive on, niggers! Keep straight after me."
The ex-officer of volunteers, casting a conceited glance towards the travelling carriage--through the curtains of which appears a fair face, slightly shadowed with anxiety--gives the spur to his horse; and with confident air trots onward.
A chorus of whipcracks is succeeded by the trampling of fours