Like the sword of Coeur De Lion, which always blazed in the front and thickest of the battle, Sam's palm-leaf was to be seen everywhere when there was the least danger that a horse could be caught; there he would bear down full tilt, shouting, "Now for it! cotch him! cotch him!" in a way that would set everything to indiscriminate rout in a moment.
Haley ran up and down, and cursed and swore and stamped miscellaneously.
Mr.Shelby in vain tried to shout directions from the balcony, and Mrs.
Shelby from her chamber window alternately laughed and wondered,--not without some inkling of what lay at the bottom of all this confusion.
At last, about twelve o'clock, Sam appeared triumphant, mounted on Jerry, with Haley's horse by his side, reeking with sweat, but with flashing eyes and dilated nostrils, showing that the spirit of freedom had not yet entirely subsided.
"He's cotched!" he exclaimed, triumphantly.

"If 't hadn't been for me, they might a bust themselves, all on 'em; but I cotched him!" "You!" growled Haley, in no amiable mood.

"If it hadn't been for you, this never would have happened." "Lord bless us, Mas'r," said Sam, in a tone of the deepest concern, "and me that has been racin' and chasin' till the sweat jest pours off me!" "Well, well!" said Haley, "you've lost me near three hours, with your cursed nonsense.

Now let's be off, and have no more fooling." "Why, Mas'r," said Sam, in a deprecating tone, "I believe you mean to kill us all clar, horses and all.

Here we are all just ready to drop down, and the critters all in a reek of sweat.