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He looked kinder bothered, and stood there with his bills fluttering on his

arm, thinking, and wrinkling up his forehead. At last he says:

"I'll tell you something. We got to be here three days. If you'll promise

you won't blow, and won't let the nigger blow, I'll tell you where to find him."

So I promised, and he says:

"A farmer by the name of Silas Ph" and then he stopped. You see he

started to tell me the truth; but when he stopped, that way, and begun to study

and think again, I reckoned he was changing his mind. And so he was. He

wouldn't trust me; he wanted to make sure of having me out of the way the

whole three days. So pretty soon he says: "The man that bought him is named

Abram Foster -- Abram G. Foster -- and he lives forty mile back here in the

country, on the road to Lafayette." ssssssssss

"All right," I says, "I can walk it in three days. And I'll start this very

afternoon." ssssssssss

"No you won't, you'll start now; and don't you lose any time about it,

neither, nor do any gabbling by the way. Just keep a tight tongue in your head

and move right along, and then you won't get into trouble with us, d'ye hear?"

ssssssssss

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