XXIV
_FLIGHT_
Sam had so far commended himself by alertness and thoroughness inwhatever he did, that he had no difficulty in securing what he called"de scrubbin' contract." He now had perfect freedom of hospital ingressand egress, but he felt that he must be cautious, especially in hisfirst revelation of his presence to his master, who, he was confident,knew nothing of his being there. He feared to surprise some exclamationfrom Pegram, which would, as he phrased it, "give de whole snap away."
So on the first morning he began his scrubbing at the outer door, andmoved slowly on his hands and knees along the line of cots, taking slyglimpses of their occupants as he went. It was not till he reached thefarther corner of the large room that he found the cot of his master.Then with his face near the floor and scrubbing violently with hisbrush, he began intoning in a low voice:
"Don't say nothin', don't say nothin', don't say nothin' when yo' seesme. It's Sam sho' 'nuff, an' Sam's done come, an' don't you give itaway."
To any one ten feet away, all this sounded like the humming of a chantby one who unconsciously sang below the breath as he worked. But toBaillie, who lay within a foot or two of the boy's head, the words wereperfectly audible, and presently, without moving, and in a low murmuringvoice, he said:
"I understand, Sam. I knew you were here. I heard you singing outside,many days ago."
Then the wounded man pretended to have difficulty in adjusting hisblankets, and Sam rose and bent over the cot to help him. While doingso, he said:
"Mis' Agatha, she done brung me to New York, an' sent me heah to fin'yo'. How's you a-gittin'? Tell me, so's I kin report, an' tell me everyday."
Baillie replied briefly that his wound was healing and his strengthcoming back, to which Sam answered:
"Don't you go fer to tell de doctah too much 'bout dat. Jes' keep assick as you kin, while you'se a-gittin' well. I'll tell you why anothertime. Git 'quainted wid Sam more an' more ebery day, Mas' Baillie, so'swe kin talk 'thout 'rousin' 'spicion."
In aid of this, Sam took pains, as the days went on, to establishrelations with all the other patients who were well enough to talk, andas his inconsequent humour seemed to amuse them, the doctors made noobjection to his loquaciousness.
It was one of the articles in Sam's philosophical creed that "yo' cawn'thave too many frien's, 'case yo' cawn't never know when you may need'em." Accordingly, he cultivated acquaintance with everybody, high andlow, about the place, including the peculiarly surly man who brought thecoal and the kindling-wood for the establishment. That personage was awhite man of melancholy temper and extraordinary taciturnity. He went inand out of the place, wearing a long overcoat that had probably seenbetter days, but so long ago as to have forgotten all about them. Theonly other article of his clothing that was visible was a slouch hat,the brim of which had completely lost courage and could no longerpretend to stand out from the head that wore it, but hung down like alimp lambrequin over the man's eyes. The man himself seemed in anequally discouraged condition. He shambled rather than walked, and neveranswered a question or responded to a salutation, except in Sam's case.To him, when the two were alone, the man would sometimes speak a fewwords.
Sam was daily and hourly studying everybody and everything about him,with a view to possibilities. Nobody was too insignificant and nothingtoo trivial for him to note and consider and remember. "Yo' cawn't neverknow," he philosophised, "what rock will come handiest when yo' wants tofrow it at a squirrel."
As the weeks passed, Baillie Pegram so improved that he sat up, and evenwalked about the place a little. One day, Sam learned that Baillie andthree others were deemed well enough to be removed from hospital toprison, and that the transfer was to be made two days later. During thenight after this discovery was made, Sam trudged through a blindingsnow-storm--the last, probably, of the waning winter--to the house ofAgatha's friends, ten or a dozen miles away, and back again through thesnow-drifts, arriving at the hospital about daylight, as he had oftendone before, after a prowling by night.
He had made all his arrangements but one, and he had armed himself forthat, by drawing upon Agatha's friends for ten dollars in small bills.
During the day, he managed to tell his master all that was necessaryconcerning the emergency, and his plans for meeting it.
"To-morrow 'bout sundown, Mas' Baillie," he said, at the last. "'Memberde hour. When Sam speaks to yo' at de front do', yo' is to go ter yo'cot. Yo'll fin' de coat an' de hat a-waitin' fo' yo'. Put 'em on quick,an' pull de hat down clos't, an' turn de collah up high. Den walk out'nde back do' fru de wood-shed, an' pass out de gate, jes' as ef yo' wasde ole man, sayin' nuffin' to nobody. Yo' mustn't walk straight like yo'always does, but shufflin'-like, jes' as de ole man does. Den mount decoal kyart an' drive up to de forks o' de road. Den shuffle out'n decoat an' hat, an' git inter de sleigh. Yo' frien's 'ull take kyar o' deres'."
Having thus instructed his master, Sam postponed further proceedingsuntil the morrow. He had not yet opened negotiations with the oldcoal-man,--negotiations upon which the success of his plansdepended,--but he trusted his wits and his determination to accomplishwhat he desired, and he had no notion of risking all by unnecessaryhaste.
Even when the coal-man came during the next morning, Sam contentedhimself with asking if he would certainly come again with his cart aboutsunset of that day, as he usually did. Having reassured himself on thatpoint, Sam said nothing more, except that he would himself be at leisureat that time and would help bring in the load of wood.
Then Sam finished his scrubbing, and spent the afternoon in repairingthe apparatus of his handicraft. He readjusted the hoops on hisscrubbing-bucket, scoured his brushes, and ground the knife that he wasaccustomed to use in scraping the floor wherever medicines had beenspilled or other stains had been made, for Sam had a well earnedreputation for thoroughness in his work. Curiously enough, he this timeground the knife-blade to a slender point, "handy," he said, "fergittin' into cracks wid."
When the coal-man came with a load of wood, a little before sunset,dumping it outside the gate, Sam was ready to help him carry it in andsplit it into kindlings within the shed. For this work, when the woodhad all been brought in, the old man laid off his overcoat and hat.Thereupon Sam opened negotiations.
"I'se a-gwine to a frolic to-night," he said, "an' I'se a-gwine to havea mighty good time a-playin' o' de banjo an' a-dancin', but hit'spowerful cold, an' de walk's a mighty long one."
Then, as if a sudden thought had come to him, he said:
"Tell yo' what! 'Spose yo' lemme wahr yo' overcoat. Yo' ain't got far togo, an' I'll give yo' a dollah fer de use of it."
The old man hesitated, and Sam was in a hurry.
"I'll make it two dollahs, an' heah's de money clean an' new," pullingout the bills. "Say de word an' it's your'n."
The offer was too tempting to be resisted, and the bargain was quicklymade.
"Reckon I better go brush it up," said Sam, taking the garment andmanaging to fold the soft hat into it. He passed through the door intothe hospital, cast his bundle upon Baillie Pegram's bed, and walkedquickly to the front door, where his master was standing looking outupon the snow, now darkening in the falling dusk.
"All ready," the negro said, in an undertone, as he passed, and CaptainPegram wearily turned and walked toward his cot. Half a minute later,what looked like the old coal-man passed into the wood-shed, and out ofit at the rear, whence, with shuffling steps he walked to and throughthe gate, mounted the coal-cart, and slowly drove away.
Sam, hurrying around the building, entered the wood-shed just as hismaster was leaving it, and confronted the owner of the coat and hat thatPegram wore. He was none too soon, for the old man, seeing Pegram pass,clad in his garments, thought he was being robbed, and was about toraise a hue and cry. Sam interposed with an assumption of authority:
"Stay right whah yo' is," he commanded, "an' don't make no noise, do yo'heah? Ef you keeps quiet-like, an' stays heah at wuk fer ha'f a hour,an' den goes away 'bou
t yo' business a-sayin' nothin' to nobody, you'llgit another dollah, an' I'll tell yo' whah to fin' yo' clo'se. Ef yo'don't do jes' as I tells yo', yo'll git dis, an' yo' won't never have no'casion fer no clo'se no more. Do yo' heah?"
Sam held the keenly pointed knife in his hand, while the old man workedfor the appointed space of half an hour. At the end of that time, Samsaid:
"Now yo' may go, an' heah's yo' dollah. Yo'll fin' yer kyart at de forkso' de road, an' yer coat an' hat'll be in de kyart. But min' you don'tnever know nothin' 'bout dis heah transaction, fer ef yo' ever peeps,dey'll hang yo' fer helpin' a pris'ner to escape, an' I'll kill yo'besides. Go, now. Do yo' heah?"
Sam watched him pass out through the gate and turn up the road. When hehad disappeared, the black strategist muttered:
"Reckon dat suggestion 'bout gittin' hisse'f 'rested fer helpin' apris'ner 'scape, will sort o' bar itse'f in on de ole man's min'. Hewon't never let hisse'f 'member nuffin' 'bout dis heah. Anyhow, Mas'Baillie's gone, an' it's time Sam was a-gittin' out o' this, too."
With that the boy secured his banjo and bade good night to the surgeonwhom he met outside, saying that he was going to have a "powerful goodtime at de frolic."
The Master of Warlock: A Virginia War Story Page 24