"Yes, Pomp, you have improved rapidly. By and by you can teach
your mother how to read."
"She couldn't learn, Mass' Frank. She's poor ignorant nigger."
"You shouldn't speak so of your mother, Pomp. She's a good mother
to you, and works hard to earn money to support you."
"Yes, Mass' Frank," said Pomp, who was getting impatient to go.
"I guess I'll go home and help her."
Frank thought that what he had said was producing a good effect.
He did not know the secret of Pomp's haste.
Pomp left the room, and, proceeding to the wood-shed, hastily
possessed himself of the musket. In a stealthy manner he crept
with it through a field behind the house, until he got into the
neighboring woods.
He found it a hard tug to carry the gun, which was heavier than
those made at the present day. At length he reached an open space
in the woods, only a few rods from the road which led from the
farmhouse, past the shanty occupied by old Chloe. As this road
was not much traveled, Pomp felt pretty safe from discovery, and
accordingly here it was that he halted, and made preparations to
go through the manual.
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