"Whose is he ?" he asked.

"If you will hold him--he is quite quiet now--I will go see." A negro came panting around the turn.

"Gawd-a-moughty, marster! did you cotch dat horse?
You, Selim, I's gwine lam' you, I's gwine teach you er lesson--dancin' roun' on yo' two foots 'cause you sees er scrap of paper! R'arin' an' pitchin' an' flingin' white folks on er heap of stones! I'll larn you! Yo' marster was a-dreamin', or you'd never th'owed him! You jes wait twel I git you home! Marse Fairfax Cary, dis debbil done th'owed my marster, an' he lyin' by de roadside, an' I don' know whether he live or daid!" "I know you now," exclaimed the younger Cary.

"You're Mr.Lewis Rand's servant.

Hadn't you better stay here, Miss Dandridge, until I see what really is the matter?
Here, boy, stop chattering your teeth! Your master's not killed.