Suddenly he was hailed. "Look out dar, boss!"
"Hold on!" shouted Winn. "I am in trouble, and will give you a dollar
to pilot me ashore."
A skiff came alongside. It contained but a single occupant, a negro,
who appeared nearly as old as Solon. He listened with open-mouthed
wonder to the boy's hurriedly told story, and not only expressed a
ready sympathy, but promised to have "de young gen'l'man an' der lilly
lady lamb on de sho' in free minutes. Ole Clod, him know de way. De
frog can't fool him on desh yer ribber."
With renewed hope Winn followed closely behind his dusky pilot, and in
another minute caught sight of the welcome land. It was East St.
Louis, on the Illinois side of the river, at that time a great railroad
terminus, and Clod's little cabin stood at the edge of high-water-mark;
for he was a boatman, and gained his living from the river.
"Now, young marse, you mus' come up to my house, whar my ole 'oman
fixin' de lilly gal all right in no time." So saying, the negro lifted
Sabella in his strong arms and started towards his cabin, to which Winn
was only too glad to follow him. The boy had never felt so utterly
helpless and forlorn.
He no longer thought of taking matters into his own hands, but was
thankful to accept even the humble guidance of this negro.
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