They took the steamer down the Potomac, and, as they came off the mouth
of St. Mary's River, Milburn donned his Raleigh's hat again, and stood
on deck, looking at the lights about the old Priest's House, where the
capital of Lord Baltimore lay, a naked plain and a few starveling
mementoes, within the bight of a sandy point that faced the archipelago
of the Eastern Shore.
"My hat," said Milburn to himself, "is old as yonder town, and better
preserved. The Calverts and Milburns have married into Mrs. Washington's
kin. Does my wife love me?"
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE ORDEAL.
When Levin Dennis awoke in the bottom of the old wagon it was being
rapidly driven, and Van Dorn's voice from the driver's seat was heard to
say, without its usual lisp and Spanish interjection:
"Whitecar, is your brother at Dover sure of his game?"
"Cock sure, Cap'n. Got 'em tree'd! Best domestic stock in the town thar,
an' the purtiest yaller gals: I know that suits _you_, Cap'n!"
"Have they arms?"
"Not a trigger. We trap 'em at one of their 'festibals.' No, sir,
niggers won't scrimmage."
"We assemble at Devil Jim Clark's," said Van Dorn, and passed by with a
crack of his whip.
Levin, whom some friendly hand had wrapped in a bearskin coat--he had
seen one like it upon Van Dorn--next heard the slaver speak to another
party he had overtaken:
"Melson?"
"Ay yi!"
"Milman?"
"Ah! boy.
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