第58章 Chapter XVI.(3)

     
     
     
     　　Carefully deliberating on the most proper manner ofapproaching him on the subject， I concluded finally toask him simply if he would deposit a letter for me in theMarksville post-office the next time he visited that place，without disclosing to him that the letter was written， orany of the particulars it contained； for I had fears thathe might betray me， and knew that some inducementmust be held out to him of a pecuniary nature， before itwould be safe to confide in him. As late as one o’clockone night I stole noiselessly from my cabin， and， crossingthe field to Shaw’s， found him sleeping on the piazza. Ihad but a few picayunes—the proceeds of my fiddlingperformances， but all I had in the world I promised himif he would do me the favor required. I begged him not toexpose me if he could not grant the request. He assuredme， upon his honor， he would deposit it in the Marksvillepost-office， and that he would keep it an inviolable secretforever. Though the letter was in my pocket at the time，I dared not then deliver it to him， but stating I wouldhave it written in a day or two， bade him good night， andreturned to my cabin. It was impossible for me to expelthe suspicions I entertained， and all night I lay awake，revolving in my mind the safest course to pursue. I waswilling to risk a great deal to accomplish my purpose，but should the letter by any means fall into the hands ofEpps， it would be a death-blow to my aspirations. I was“perplexed in the extreme.”
     
     　　My suspicions were well-founded， as the sequeldemonstrated. The next day but one， while scrapingcotton in the field， Epps seated himself on the line fencebetween Shaw’s plantation and his own， in such a positionas to overlook the scene of our labors. Presently Armsbymade his appearance， and， mounting the fence， took aseat beside him. They remained two or three hours， all ofwhich time I was in an agony of apprehension.
     
     　　That night， while broiling my bacon， Epps entered thecabin with his rawhide in his hand.
     
     　　“Well， boy，” said he， “I understand I’ve got a larnednigger， that writes letters， and tries to get white fellows tomail ’em. Wonder if you know who he is？”
     
     　　My worst fears were realized， and although it maynot be considered entirely creditable， even under thecircumstances， yet a resort to duplicity and downrightfalsehood was the only refuge that presented itself.