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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Dee gib me some'n' t' eat, an' I frought maybe dee'd take me 'long, but dis mornin' dee had a big powwow, an' dee shot me an' knock me in d' haid. Seems laike dee 's gwine t' buhn a big plantation t'-night." "A big plantation, Polete?" I asked. "Where? Tell me oh, you must tell me!" But his head had fallen back, and his eyes were closed. There was another burst of blood from his nose and mouth.
"You tell me everything you know, and I'll do all I can to save Polete. I believe I can stop this thing without calling in any outside help." He agreed to this, and as we jogged along I gradually drew the details of the plot from him.
"Sit down a minute, Long," I said, as he started back to his quarters. "I don't believe we'll have any more trouble with those fellows, but perhaps it would be well to watch them." "Trust me for that, sir," he answered. "I'll see to it that there are no more meetings of that kind. With Polete away, there is little danger. The only question is whether he will stay away."
No, of course not," I answered sharply. "Who is he?" "Polete," gasped Sam. "Polete, come back aftah me," and seemed incapable of another word. In an instant I was off my horse and kneeling in the road beside the fallen man. Not till then did I believe it was Polete. From a great gash in the side of his head the blood had soaked into his hair and dried over his face.
He seemed to think me as good as dead already. "Good-by, Sam," I said. "Good-by, Mas' Tom," and he put spurs to his horse and set off down the road. I watched him until the trees hid him from sight, and then sprang upon my horse and started forward. Eight or ten miles, Polete had said, northward near the river.
I trembled to think what would happen should I never learn where the Indians were going, if Polete should never open his eyes again to tell me. But he did, at last, oh, how long it seemed! he did, and gazed up at me with a little smile. "Reckon it's all obah wid ole Polete, Mas' Tom," he whispered. "Where is this plantation, Polete?" I asked. "The plantation the Indians are going to attack.
The distance, which was a scant fifty miles, was over a well-traveled road, and through a district so well protected that the Indians had not dared to visit it; so I rode out of the fort one morning, taking with me only my negro boy Sam, whom I had selected for my servant since the day he had warned me against Polete.
Polete was as near collapse as a man could be and yet be conscious. He was trembling like a leaf, his eyes were bloodshot, and his lower jaw was working convulsively. He turned an imploring gaze on me, and tried to speak, but could not. "Polete," I said sternly, "I suppose you know that if this night's work gets out, as it is certain to do sooner or later, no power on earth can save your life?"
"Make an example of Polete," he answered decidedly. "That's the best way, sir. Put him out of the way, let the other niggers see us do it, and they'll quiet down fast enough." "Undoubtedly that is the easiest way," I said, smiling, "but, unfortunately, I had to promise the person who gave me the information that Polete should not be harmed." Long stared at me for a moment in amazement.
I did see d' French a-comin' millions o' dem all a-ma'chin' t'rough d' forest. Dee's almost hyah. Dee want us t' holp." A hoarse yell interrupted him, and I saw that something must be done. "Wait a minute, boys," I cried. "Let me ask Polete a question. You say you have seen the French marching, Polete?" He nodded sullenly. "What was the color of their uniforms?"
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