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Stories by American Authors, Volume 6 by Various
page 78 of 141 (55%)

"But de papehs is all right, seh. I hilt on to 'um, sho'. Dey--dey
couldn't git 'um nohow, wid all de smahtniss," he said, with feeble
triumph. "Dey's right yeah in my wescut pocket." Then he added, with a
sudden change of tone: "But I'd like to go home, Mist' Dunkin; Ailse'll
be oneasy 'bout me."

I had to leave him with the boy while I went for a doctor and a vehicle,
neither of which was easy to be had, but finally a milk-wagon was
pressed into service, and although the mob had gathered together again,
and were besieging the depot, yet, after some delay, we succeeded in
conveying him to his home. I saw him safe in bed, his hurt dressed;
then, after bestowing a reward upon the colored boy, who had rendered me
such efficient service, I left him in charge of the doctor and his wife.

The latter was a small, plump yellow woman, with large, gentle black
eyes, and the soft voice so often found among Virginia "house" servants.
After watching her as she assisted the surgeon to dress the wound, I
came to the conclusion all of her talents were by no means "bound up in
napkins," and I went home assured my faithful old messenger was left in
very capable hands.

Next morning, directly after breakfast, I sallied forth to inquire
concerning his condition. After passing along the crowded thoroughfares,
where everybody was occupied with the riot, it was a relief to find
myself turning into the obscure little street where he lived.

"Here, at least, everything seems peaceful enough," I said, aloud, as I
approached the house. I was just in the act of placing my foot on the
one door-step, when the door was thrown violently open, and a tall black
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