"Then go, sir," continued my father, "and tell the man who sent you that
we are, all whom you see here, Englishmen who have made this our home--
men who mean to keep what we have won in defiance of Spain and all her
hosts."

"Is this your answer?" said the Spanish officer, sternly, as soon as
silence came after a tremendous cheer.

"Yes," cried the General, "that is our answer, gentlemen, so go in
peace."

"Yes, sir," said the Spaniard, after a few muttered words with his
companions, "to return in war."

His defiance was received in calm silence, and he and his companions
were led out again by Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford, not a word being
spoken till they had been seen to march down to the rough quay, embark,
and row off to their ship.

It was not till Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford had returned, full of
excitement, that the silence was broken by the General.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "what have you to say?"

"God save the King!" said my father, enthusiastically.

"Then you will all fight in defence of your hearths and homes?"

A tremendous cheer was the answer.

"Well, then," said the General, "we must be prepared.  I look upon it
all as an empty, insolent piece of bombast; but whatever it is, we must
not be taken unawares.  Help shall be at once asked from England, and
meantime we must do all we can to place ourselves in a state of
defence."

"Well, George," said my father, as we walked back home, seeing the sails
of the Spaniard set, and that she was gliding slowly down the river,
"what have you to say to all this?"

"I should like to know whether the Spaniards will come back."

"Ah, that remains to be proved, my boy.  We shall see."

"Not they," said Morgan, when I told him, and he was listening eagerly
to my account of what had taken place.  "If we were Indians perhaps they
would; but we're Englishmen and Welshmen, look you.  No, my lad, we're
more likely to see those Indians.  Depend upon it, all that Spaniel said
was a bit of bounce."

CHAPTER TEN.

Those were busy times at the settlement, where the crops and everything
else were neglected so that all hands might work at the block-house, or
fort, it was determined to build, so as to have a place to flee to in
case of attack, and the fight going against us.

Wood was plentiful enough, and the _chip-chop_ of the axes was heard all
day long, willing hands toiling hard, so that at the end of a week a
strong wooden breastwork was contrived; and this, as the time went by,
was gradually improved, sheds and huts being run up within for shelter
from the dews and rain, and for store-places in case we were besieged.

But the weeks went by, and the Spaniards made no sign, and as far as we
could tell were not likely to.  Still the General did not relax his
efforts; outposts and guards did duty; a well was dug inside the fort,
and stores were gathered in, but no enemies came, and their visit began
to seem like a bit of history.

My father and Morgan had walked over with me to the fort every morning,
and there gentlemen toiled beside the ordinary labourers and the slaves;
but no fresh alarm came, and at last we were back at the house
regularly, and time was devoted to making up for the past neglect,
Morgan bemoaning the state of the garden most piteously.

I suppose I must have been about fifteen years old then, but cannot be
sure.  All I know is that the whole business stands out vividly in my
mind, as if it had taken place yesterday.  In fact I can sit down, close
my eyes, and recall nearly the whole of my boyish life on the river,
with the scenes coloured by memory till they seem to grow.  At such
times it seems to me that I can actually breathe in the sweet lemony
odour of the great laurel-leaved flowers borne on what, there, were
often great trees dotted with blossoms which looked like gigantic
creamy-white tulips, one of which great magnolias flourished at the end
of our house.

On the day of which I am speaking, Morgan Johns, our serving-man and
general hand, for there was nothing he was not ready to do, came and
told my father that there was a schooner in the river, adding something
which my father shook his head over and groaned.  This, of course, made
me open my ears and take an interest in the matter at once.

"Well, sir, look you," said Morgan, "I'll do as much as I can, but you
keep on fencing in more and more land, and planting more and more
trees."

"Yes, I do, Morgan," said my father, apologetically; "but see how
different it is to cold, mountainous North Wales."

"North Wales is a very coot country, sir," said Morgan, severely.  "No
man should look down on the place of his birth."

"Nobody does, Morgan.  I often long to see Snowdon, and the great ridge
of blue mountains growing less and less till they sink into the sea."

"Ah," said Morgan, enthusiastically, and speaking more broadly, "it's a
fery coot country is Wales.  Where are your mountains here?"

"Ah, where are they, Morgan?  The place is flat enough, but see how rich
and fat the soil is."

"Yes, it's fery good," said Morgan, growing more English.

"And see how things grow."

"Yes; that's the worst of them, sir; they grow while you're looking at
them; and how can one man fight against the weeds, which grow so fast
they lift your coat off the ground?"

"In time, Morgan, in time," said my father.  "Yes, sir, in time.  Ah,
well, I'll work till I die, and I can't do any more."

"No, Morgan," said my father, quietly, "you cannot do any more."

"The other gentlemen who came out don't mind doing it, and their little
estates are in better order than ours."

"No, Morgan," said my father, decisively, "I will not have that.  Nobody
had such fruit as we did last year."

"Well, master," said our old servant, with his hard, dry face
brightening up into a smile, "I think we can beat them all round; but if
you are going on enclosing fresh clearings from the forest, I must have
more help."  My father shook his head and Morgan went on, "The other
gentlemen are going aboard, one after another; why don't you go too,
sir?"

"If I went, it would be to try to put a stop to it, Morgan, and cry
shame on my neighbours for what they are doing."

"Ah, well, master, I've done," said Morgan.  "I'll work till I drop, and
I can do no more."

My father turned to the old-fashioned desk he had brought from home, and
went on writing a letter, while, after giving him a look full of
vexation, our man gave his straw hat a flop against his side, and went
out.

I was not long in following and overtaking him by the rough fence which
enclosed our garden.

"Morgan!  Morgan!"  I cried.

"Well, Master George, boy, what is it?"

"What did you want father to do?"

"Go and ask him."

"No, I shan't; I shall ask you.  Did you want him to buy something to
help in the garden?"

Morgan looked at me quietly and nodded.

"What was it?--a new spade?"

"Nay, boy; but people to use spades and hoes--'specially the last."

"But you can't buy people."

"Can't you, boy?"

"Only slaves.  Oh, I say, Morgan!  I know; you wanted father to buy some
slaves."

"Ay, boy, that's it.  Every one else here's doing it, so why shouldn't
we?"

"I don't know," I said, thoughtfully.  "I know this," I cried; "that
schooner that came into the river has got slaves on board."

"That's right, Master George, boy.  Cargo of blacks from the Guinea
coast, and our neighbours are buying 'em so fast that there won't be one
left if we want any."

"We don't want any," I said, indignantly.

"No, Master George, boy, so your father said; and I'm going to ask him
to graft me."

"To graft you?"

"Ay, my lad, with a row of extra arms all down each side, like that
picture of the Injin idol in your book."

"What nonsense, Morgan!"

"Oh, I don't know, Master George.  One pair of hands can't do the work
here.  Wants a dozen pair, seems to me.  Well, I've done my dooty.  I
told master there was a chance to get some slaves."

"And of course my father would not buy slaves," I said, indignantly.

"No, sir; and the house and plantations I've took such pride in will all
go to ruin now."

"Morgan!"

We both started and looked round to see my father standing in the rough
porch of rugged oak-wood.

The man went up to him.

"You have made me uneasy about all this," he said, thoughtfully.  "I
will go on board the schooner, and see who is there among my neighbours.
I should like to interfere if I could."

"Better not, sir.  May make bad blood after."

"Morgan!" cried my father, so sternly that the man drew himself up as if
he were on parade, and his old officer were in uniform.  "Do not forget
yourself, sir.  Go and unloose the boat.  You can row me on board."

Morgan saluted and went away, while my father began to walk up and down
the sandy path among his flowers.  I waited a bit, and then went
hesitatingly up to him.  For a few minutes he did not notice me, and I
saw that his lips were pressed close together, and his brow wrinkled.

"Ah, George," he said at last, and he laid his hand upon my shoulder.

"Going out in the boat, father?"

"Yes, my boy."

"Take me too."

He looked at me quickly, and shook his head.

"But I should like to go, father."

"My boy," he said, "I am going on board a ship lying in the river--a
vessel used by cruel-hearted men for trafficking in their
fellow-creatures."

"Yes, I know, father," I said; "a slaver."

He frowned a little, but went on.

"I am going to see if I can do any good among my friends and neighbours.
It would be no proper sight for you."

I felt disappointed, but when my father spoke in that firm, quiet way, I
knew that he meant every word he said, and I remained silent, but
followed him as he took his hat and stick and walked slowly down to the
little landing-place, where Morgan was already seated in the boat with
the painter held in one hand, passed just round the trunk of the nearest
tree, and ready to slip as soon as my father stepped on board.

A slight motion of an oar sent the stern of the boat close in to the
bank, my father stepped in, the painter was slipped, and the boat
yielded to the quick current, and began to glide away.

But just then my father raised his head, saw me standing there
disconsolate, and said aloud--

"Would you very much like to come, George?"

"Oh, yes, father," I shouted; and he made a sign.  Morgan pulled his
left-hand oar, and I forced my way through the dense undergrowth to
reach the spot where the boat was being pulled in, fifty yards down
stream.

It was hard work, and I had not gone far through the dense leafage, and
over the soft, spongy, river-soaked bank, before there was a rush and a
scuffle, followed by a splash, and though I saw nothing, I knew that it
was a small alligator, taking refuge in the water after a night's
wandering ashore.

I had heard these sounds so often, and was so accustomed to the dread
shown by the reptiles, that I did not hesitate to go on, and soon after
reached the place where Morgan was holding on by the overhanging bushes,
drawing the boat so close in that I easily stepped down on to one of the
thwarts, giving my father a bright, eager look, but he did not see it;
so taking one of the oars, I sat down behind our man, and rowed hard
till our boat glided out of the mouth of the stream which ran through my
father's property, and reached the turbid waters of the great river.

As we passed out of the mouth of our stream, and round the bushes on the
point, there lay the schooner a couple of hundred yards away, anchored
in the middle, with her long raking masts tapering in the sunshine, and
the great spars glistening and bright as if freshly greased.

She was low in the water, and as I looked over my shoulder, I caught
sight of a boat just pushing off to go down stream, and noted that she
was rowed by some of our neighbours, and had black men on board.

I saw my father give a quick look in the direction of the boat, and
frown, but he did not speak, and we rowed on.

As we neared the schooner I more than once became conscious of a
peculiar offensive odour, that I thought must be something coming up
with the tide; but I was too much interested in the slaver to give more
than a passing thought to such a matter, and my eagerness and excitement
increased as we drew near.  For I heard loud voices, and saw our nearest
neighbour close to the side, talking to a hard-looking, deeply-bronzed
man.  Then one of the sailors threw us a rope; we made fast, my father
stepped on board, and I followed.

"Better take the other two I've got, colonel, and clear me out," said
the bronzed man.

"No, I think not," said Colonel Preston, who had exchanged a short nod
with my father, and he turned to where a dejected-looking group of
negroes, both men and women, were standing on the deck close to the open
hold.

"Better alter your mind; make your black hay while the sun shines.  I
may never come up your river again.  I'll throw in the other two dirt
cheap."

I felt the colour come into my cheeks, and then felt how pitiful it was
for the miserable, drooping, nearly nude creatures to be sold like that;
but my attention was taken up directly by my father's looks and the
colonel's words as he said, sternly--

"No; six are all I want, and it seems to me that half of these will die
before I have had them long ashore."

"No; they'll soon pick up.  We've had a rough crossing," said the slaver
captain, "and the quarters are a bit close.  We ran short of water too,
and a tidy lot died, and made the others bad.  You give 'em time, and
that lot 'll turn out as cheap as anything you ever bought.  You should
have seen them when they first came aboard--lively and spry as could be.
Have the other two.  Hi!  Below there!" he continued, as he went to the
open hold, and boy-like I stepped forward, full of curiosity, to look
down too.

But I started back in horror, as a hot puff of the revolting odour I had
previously noticed came up from below.

"Ah, not very sweet, youngster," said the slaver captain, with a laugh.
"Going to brimstone it out well as soon as I've made a clearance.  Got
two more, haven't you?"

"Ay," came up in a growl.

"Man and woman, eh?"

"Boy and a man," came up.

"Send 'em on deck."

There was a pause, during which I heard from below--"Now then!  Up with
you!" and the sound of blows, which made me draw a long breath, and I
was going back once more to the hold when I felt my father's hand upon
my shoulder, and saw as I looked up that he was deadly pale.

"Hoist 'em up there!" shouted the captain, and a rope rove through a
block was lowered down.

"How can you join in this cursed business, Preston?" said my father in a
low tone to our neighbour.

"I was going to ask you that," said the colonel, coldly.

"Me?  Ask me?"

"Yes, sir; you have come on board to buy slaves, I suppose, with the
rest of us?"

"I deny it," said my father, flashing out, as he drew himself up.  "I
came on board, too late it seems, to try and prevail upon my brother
emigrants--English gentlemen of birth and position--to discountenance
this hateful traffic in the bodies of our fellow-creatures."

"We must have men to work if our colony is to succeed, Captain Bruton."

"Oh!" ejaculated my father, and then in a low voice, as his eyes rested
on the group of poor black wretches huddled together, I heard him say,
"It is monstrous!"

At that moment a couple of sailors began to haul at the rope run through
the block; it tightened, and with a cheery "Yo-ho!" they ran up what
seemed to be the dead body of a big negro, whose head and arms hung down
inert as he was hoisted on high; the spar to which the block was
fastened swung round, the rope slackened, and the poor wretch plumped
down on the deck, to lie motionless all of a heap.

"Not in very good fettle," said the slave captain, curtly; "but he'll
come round."

The rope was cast loose from the negro's chest, lowered down again, and
I gazed from the poor wretch lying half or quite dead on the deck, to my
father, and back again, noting that he was very pale, biting his lower
lip, and frowning in a way that I knew of old meant a storm.

"Now then, up with him!" shouted the captain.

"Ay, ay, but look out, or he'll be overboard.  He's lively as an eel,"
came from below.

"Right!" said the captain; and he took up a small line and held it ready
in both hands.

The rope tightened; there was a cheery "Yo-ho!" and up came a black,
impish-looking boy of about my own age, kicking, struggling, and tearing
at the rope round his chest.

But it was all in vain; he was swung round, held suspended with his feet
just clear of the deck, and his wrists were caught in a loop of the line
bound together, his ankles were served the same, and the lad was dropped
on the deck to lie writhing like some wild animal, showing his teeth,
and watching us all in turn with his rolling eyes.

"Come," said the slave captain, laughingly turning to Colonel Preston;
"he's lively enough to make up for the other.  Better have 'em.  I'll
throw them in for next to nothing."

"No," said our neighbour, coldly.  "That man is dying, and the boy would
be of no use to me."

"The man is not dying," said the slave captain roughly, "but he soon
will be if you don't have him.  As for this shaver, he's about as near
being an imp as we can find.  Keep away, my lad, or he may bite you."

This was to me, as I approached the boy, who showed his teeth at me like
a vicious dog.

"Going to have 'em, colonel?"

"No; once more, no," said the colonel, sternly.  "I am only waiting for
my boat."

"All right, sir, I don't go begging.  What do you say?" he continued,
turning to my father.  "Will you buy those two?"

"I?" cried my father, angrily; "buy my fellow-creatures for slaves?"

"Oh, no, of course not," said the slave captain.  And then to himself,
but I heard him, "Too good a man, I suppose.--Sorry you won't have 'em,
colonel.--Heave 'em down."

The men on deck advanced to the insensible negro, and were in the act of
stooping to pass the rope once more about his chest, when my father, who
could bear the scene no longer, said quietly--

"Do you not see that man is dying?"

"Yes, sir.  Altered your mind?  You can have the two a bargain."

"Bah!" exclaimed my father, fiercely.  "Man, have you no heart, no
feeling?"

"Not that I know of, sir.  This trade would take it out of any one."

"But the poor creature's lips are dried up.  He wants water."

"He'll have plenty to-night, sir," said the slave captain, with a laugh.
"Down with him, my lads."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the men; the rope was passed round the negro, and
the men seized the end to haul.

"I can't bear it," I heard my father say in a whisper; and then
aloud--"Stop!"

"Eh?  What for?"

"I will buy the man," said my father.

"And the boy?"

"N--"

"Yes, yes," I shouted, excitedly.

My father turned upon me with an angry look, but he seemed to read mine,
and his face changed.

"Yes," he said, quietly.

"Right, and a good riddance," said the captain, laughing, as he held out
his hand for the money my father began to count out.  "I don't mind
telling you now, sir; if you hadn't bought him, he'd have been dead
enough to-night; but you get him ashore and take care of him, and he'll
come round--he will indeed; I'm not tricking you.  It's wonderful what a
deal these niggers will bear.  There, I like to deal square," he added,
as he thrust the money in his pocket.  "Smithers, shove a chain on that
boy's legs, and another on the man's."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"No, no, for Heaven's sake, no," cried my father.

"Oh, just as you like," said the slave captain.  "I was going to give
you the shackles; only I warn you, if you don't have them on, that man
as soon as you revive him will make for the river and drown himself, and
the boy will be off into the woods."

"Do what is best," said my father, and the shackles were put on.

"Shall we hoist them into the boat for you?"

"If you please," said my father, coldly.

"Heave ahead, my lads," cried the slave captain; "and below there, get
those brimstone-pans going at once."

"Ay, ay," came from below, and I saw a lighted lanthorn passed down as
my father's two slaves were hoisted over the side, and lowered into the
boat, where Morgan stood ready with a grim smile upon his lip.

"You'll get yours home first, Bruton," said Colonel Preston, coming to
my father's side; "my boat's all behind.  I say, neighbour, don't preach
at me any more.  You're as bad as any of us, and I'm glad you've come to
your senses at last."

My father gave him a peculiar look, and then glanced at the group of
slaves destined for the Preston property, where they stood huddled
together quite apathetic and hopeless-looking.

The next minute we were at the gangway, and as I passed down, I saw
three rough-looking men coming up out of the hold, and a thin bluish
vapour began to curl up before they smothered it down by rapidly
covering the opening and drawing over it a well-tarred canvas.

Very soon after I was in the boat, stooping to take an oar, and gazing
at the stern, where the man lay as if dead, and the boy, whose bonds had
been secured to the thwart, lay glaring at me viciously, and had taken
hold of the edge of the boat in his white teeth; and directly after, as
we rowed away from the floating horror upon whose deck we had so lately
stood, there came the regular beat of oars, and I saw Colonel Preston's
boat, which had evidently been ashore with one load, coming back for the
other poor wretches and their owner.

"Why, hang me!" said a voice, evidently not intended for our ears, "if
that puritanical Captain Bruton hasn't been buying niggers too."

The calm water bears sound to a great distance.

I saw my father wince a little, and he turned to me bending down, so
that his lips were pretty close to my ear.

"Yes," he said, "Captain Bruton has been buying niggers too."

"No, no, father," I said, looking up; "one of them is mine."

"And what are you going to do with him?" he said, slowly, as his eyes
seemed to search mine.

"Do with him, father?"  I said, promptly.  "Let him go."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Our first task on getting out of the main river and up our stream to the
landing-place where the boat was made fast, was to get the boy ashore,
and it proved to be no light task; coaxing and threats were received in
the same spirit--for of course he could not comprehend a word.  All he
seemed to realise was that he was in the hands of his enemies; and that
if he could get a chance, he ought to bite those hands.

"You'll have to be careful, Morgan," I said, as our man stooped down to
unfasten the rope which held the boy to the thwart.

"Careful?  What for, Master George?  Think I should break him?"

"No; he bites."

"Oh, he won't bite me," said Morgan, confidently.  "Like to catch him at
it."

He had his wish, for the boy swung himself round and set his teeth hard
in Morgan's leg.

"Oh!  Well, he is hungry, and no mistake," said Morgan, freeing himself
by giving the boy's head a sharp thrust.

"Has he bitten you?" said my father.

"Well, he have, and he haven't, sir.  Breeches was a bit too tough for
him, but he has nipped me finely.  Wonderful power in his jaw.  No, no,
Master George, don't you touch him; he'll have to go in the copper
first.  Ah, would you!  Why, he's like a fish, only he arn't hooked."

For the boy had made a dash for liberty, and it was only after a severe
struggle that he was held down, and this time I was the sufferer; for,
as I helped to keep him from springing overboard, he swung his head
round and fixed his teeth in my left arm in a pinch that seemed to be
scooping out a circular piece of flesh.

"Well, he is a warmint, and no mistake.  Let go, will you, sir?"

"Don't strike the boy," said my father.  "Let me get hold of his jaw."

The boy saw the hand coming and wrenched himself away, seeming to take a
piece of my arm with him, and leaving me throbbing with agonising pain,
and feeling as if I must yell out and sob and cry.

"Well done, George!" said my father, pressing my shoulder in a firm
grip.  "That's brave; always try and bear pain like a man."

"But it hurts horribly," I said, with my eyes full of tears.

"I know it does, my lad, but noise will not ease the pang.--Now, Morgan,
you had better fetch another rope and bind him well."

"S'pose I had, sir.  I'd take hold of him and carry him ashore, but he'd
have his teeth into me directly.  S'pose people don't go mad after being
bit by boys?  On'y feel mad, eh, Master George?"

I nodded, for I could not trust myself to speak, and I stood looking on
as the boy was held back in the bottom of the boat, with my father's
foot upon his breast.

"Shall I fetch a rope, sir?  Can you hold him?"

"Yes, I think so.  We can manage him between us."

Morgan leaped ashore, and he was about to go up to the house, when a
rush and scramble brought him back, for the boy was struggling like an
eel; and how he managed I do not know, but he wriggled from beneath my
father's foot, passed under the thwart, and, as I tried to stop him,
threw me backwards, and was over the side with a splash and beneath the
stream.

As I uttered a cry of horror I saw the boy's woolly head appear for a
moment above the surface, and then go down, weighted as he was by the
shackles on his ankles; and, as I gazed, I nearly went after him, the
boat gave such a lunge, but I saved myself, and found that it was caused
by Morgan leaping back rope in hand, after unfastening the moorings, and
it was well he did so, sending the boat well off into the stream,
floating after our purchase.

"See him?" cried my father, eagerly, as he threw off hat and coat ready
to dive in.

"Not yet, sir," said Morgan, standing ready with the boat-hook.

"I would not have him drowned for five hundred pounds," cried my father.
"No, no, George, my boy, you must not go after him; his struggles would
drown you both."

"Don't see him, sir.  Big alligator hasn't got him, has it?"

"Don't talk like that, man," cried my father, with a shudder; "but you
ought to be able to see him in this clear water."

"I see him!"  I cried, excitedly; "give me the boat-hook."

It was passed to me, and after a couple of misses, I felt the hook take
hold, drew up gently, and as I hauled in, we found that the boy was
coming up feet first, the iron having passed between the ring of the
shackle and the boy's ankle.

"Steady, my lad, steady!" cried Morgan, as I drew the boy nearer, and
the next minute he was seized and drawn into the boat, feeble and
helpless now, half dead, and making no further attempt to escape as the
boat was paddled back toward the landing-place.

"That's quieted him a bit anyhow, sir," said Morgan.  "Won't take his
clothes long to dry, Master George, will it?"

"Poor fellow!  He has been so ill-used," said my father, "that he thinks
we mean to do him harm."

"Oh, we'll soon teach him better, sir," replied Morgan, as I laid my
hand on the boy's side to feel if his heart was beating.  "Oh, he arn't
drowned, sir, and the wash 'll do him no end of good.  Here we are!"

He leaped out, made the boat fast, and then, coming back, was about to
carry the boy ashore; but my father had forestalled him, and stepped out
with the boy in his arms, laying him gently down on the grass, and then
looking wonderingly at Morgan, who had followed, and knelt down to pass
a rope through the shackle and make it fast to a ring-bolt used for
mooring the boat, and driven into one of the tree-trunks close to the
water.

"Not necessary," said my father.

"Begging your pardon, sir, he'll come to and be off while we're busy
perhaps.  Now about the man; I'm rather 'fraid about him."

"We must get him ashore," said my father; and after securing the boat
parallel with the log which formed the bottom of the landing-place, they
managed to get the poor creature, who was quite an inert mass, out upon
the bank, and then, after placing one of the bottom-boards of the boat
under his back, I joined in, and we dragged him right up to where the
boy lay insensible.

"I'm afraid we are too late," said my father, as he felt the black's
pulse.

"Yes, sir, you've threw good money away here," said Morgan; "he'll never
do a stroke of work for us, but thank you kindly for meaning help all
the same, and I must try what I can do with the boy."

"Is he dead, father?"  I whispered, in an awe-stricken tone.

"No, but dying, I am afraid.  He has been starved and suffocated in that
vile schooner.  Good heavens!  How can men be such fiends?"

"Ay, that can't do no harm," said Morgan, as I filled the boat's baler
with water, and knelt down by the negro's side to begin trickling a few
drops from time to time between his cracked lips, and sprinkling his
face.

"I will fetch a few drops of spirit," said my father.  "Keep on giving
him a little water."

He went away toward the house while I continued my task, and Morgan kept
up a running commentary upon the man's appearance.

"Pity, too," he said.  "Master oughtn't to have let them cheat him
though, like this.  Fine working chap.  See what a broad, deep chest
he's got, Master George.  Don't think much of his legs, but he's got
wonderful arms.  My!  What a sight of hoeing I could have got him to do,
but it's a case of hoe dear me!  With him, I'm afraid."

"You don't think he'll die, Morgan, do you?"  I said, piteously.

"Ay, but I do, my dear lad.  They've 'bout killed him.  We want help,
but I'm 'fraid all that slave-dealing's 'bout as bad as bad can be.
Give him a few more drops o' water; those others trickled down."

I gave the man a few more drops, pouring them from my fingers almost at
minute intervals, but he made no sign.  Then, all at once, I felt half
startled, for a pair of eyes were watching me, and I saw that the boy
had recovered sufficiently to be noticing everything that was going on.

As our eyes met, he looked at me like a fierce dog who was watching for
an opportunity to make a successful snap; but as he saw me trickle a few
more drops of water between the man's lips, his face suddenly grew
eager, and he looked at me, found my eyes fixed upon him, and slowly
opened his mouth widely.

"Want some water?"  I said; and I was going to him when he jerked
himself fiercely away, and showed his beautiful white teeth at me.

"Wo ho!" cried Morgan.  "Mind, lad, or he'll have his teeth in you."

"He's thirsty," I said; and I held the tin baler half full of water to
him.

He looked at me, then at the water, and I could see his lips move and
his teeth part, showing his dry tongue quivering like that of a dog.
Then he fixed his eyes upon me again fiercely.

"Let me give it him," said Morgan, as the boy's mouth opened widely
again, and there was a pitiful, imploring look in his eyes.

Now I could not understand all that when I was so young, but I've often
thought about it since, and seemed to read it all, and how nature was
making him beg for water for his parched tongue, while his education
forced upon him the desire to fight me as a cruel enemy.

"There," I said, going a little nearer, pushing the baler close to his
hands, and drawing back.

He looked at me, then at the water, and back at me, fixing me with his
eyes, as one hand stole slowly from his side towards the baler, drawing
it nearer and nearer stealthily, as if in dread of my snatching it away;
and then it was at his lips, and he gulped down the contents.

"There, I'm not going to hurt you," I said, stretching out my hand for
the baler, and getting it, meaning to go and fill it once more; and as I
returned I saw that he was watching me so wildly that I walked up, with
him shrinking away as far as he could go, and offered the tin to him
again.

He took it in the same shrinking way, evidently expecting a blow, and
drank heavily once more.

"Well, he couldn't ha' swallowed much, Master George, else he wouldn't
be so thirsty," said Morgan.  "Now give this here one a dose, though it
seems to me labour in vain; only it may make him go off a bit easy."

He filled the baler, and I knelt down again to sprinkle the poor
fellow's temples, and trickle a few drops once more between his lips,
the boy watching me the while, and then giving me the first notice of my
father's return by shuffling away in another direction.

"Poor wretch!"  I heard my father mutter, as he gave me a piece of
bread-cake, and pointed to the boy, before taking the cork from a
bottle, and slowly dropping a spoonful or two of spirit between the
man's teeth.

After this he waited, and I saw that the boy was watching him wildly.
Then he poured in a little more, without apparently the slightest
effect, and after looking on for a few minutes, I advanced toward the
boy, holding out the cake.  But I stopped short, with my hand extended,
looking at him, and then, as he took no notice of the cake, but stared
wildly at me, I broke off a few crumbs, and began to eat before him,
treating him as I would have treated some savage creature I wished to
tame, and breaking off a piece and throwing it within his reach.

Then I went on eating again, and after a time I saw his hand steal
slowly to the bread, his eyes fixed on mine, and he snatched the piece
and conveyed it to his mouth with a motion that was wonderful from its
rapidity.

This I repeated two or three times before feeling that I ought now to
have won his confidence a little, when I went close to him, put down the
cake, and went back to kneel by my father, whose hand was upon the man's
throat.

"Is he getting better?"  I said.

There was a shake of the head, and I looked then with a feeling of awe
at the black face before me, with the eyes so close that there was just
a gleam of the white eyeballs visible; but as I gazed, I fancied I saw a
jerking motion in the throat, and I whispered to my father to look.

"A good sign, or a bad one, my boy," he whispered.  "You had better go
now, back to the house."

"Yes, father," I said, unwillingly; "but don't you think you can cure
him like you did me when I was so ill?"

"I would to heaven I could, boy!" he said, so earnestly that I was
startled, and the more so that at the same moment the man slowly opened
his eyes, and stared at us vacantly.

"It is a hopeful sign," said my father, and he took the baler, poured
out all but a few drops of water, added some spirit, and placed it to
the man's lips, with the result that he managed to drink a little, and
then lay perfectly still, gazing at my father with a strange look which
I know now was one full of vindictive hate, for the poor wretch must
have read all this attention to mean an attempt to keep him alive for
more ill-treatment, or until he was sold.

"Take a little more," said my father, offering the vessel again, and the
man drank and once more lay still, glaring at us all in turn.

"Why, you'll save him after all, sir," said Morgan, eagerly.  "Hurrah!"

But no one paid heed to his remark, for at that moment there was a sort
of bound, and we saw that the boy had contrived to force himself so near
that he could lay his hand on the man's cheek, uttering as he did so a
few words incomprehensible to us, but their effect on the man was
magical: his features softened, and two great tears stole slowly from
his eyes as we watched the pair, the boy glaring at us defiantly, as if
to protect his companion, and I heard my father say softly--

"Thank God!"

CHAPTER TWELVE.

After a time, with the boy seeming to watch defiantly beside the great
fellow, the black revived sufficiently to swallow some bread soaked in
wine-and-water; the dull, filmy look left his eyes; and at last he
dropped off into a heavy sleep.

"Shall we try and carry him up to one of the sheds, sir?" said Morgan.

"No; the poor fellow has had a very narrow escape from death," replied
my father; "and I do not know even now that he will recover.  Fetch a
few boards to lay against that bough, and tie the boat-mast up there,
and fasten the sail against it, so as to act as a bit of shelter to keep
off the sun.  George, put some dry grass in a sack, and it will do for a
pillow."

We set about our task at once.

"Lor' ha' mussy!" grumbled Morgan, "what a fuss we are making about a
nigger.  Pillows for him!  Why don't master say, `Get the best bedroom
ready, and put on clean sheets'?  I say, Master George, think he'd come
off black?"

But all the same Morgan worked hard, with the great drops of
perspiration running off his face, till he had rigged up the shelter,
the black sleeping heavily the while, but the boy watching every act of
ours in a suspicious way, his eyes rolling about, and his lips twitching
as if he were ready to fly at us and bite.

"I know," said Morgan, all at once with a broad grin, as he was sloping
some boards lately cut from a tree over the sleeping negro.

"Know what?"  I said.

"What young sooty's a thinking.  He's a young canny ball, and he
believes we're going to make a fire and roast 'em for a feast."

Whatever the boy thought, he had ceased to struggle to get away, but lay
quite still with his arm stretched-out, so that he could touch the big
negro, and he was in this attitude when my father came back from the
house.

"Yes, that will do," he said, approvingly.

"Yes, sir, there won't be no sun get at him now.  Think he'll come
right?"

"Yes, I hope so.  Poor fellow!--if he has managed to live through the
horrors of that slaver's hold, now that he has taken a turn for the
better he may recover.  He must have been a splendidly healthy fellow,
and--"

"Well, he arn't now, sir, anyhow," said Morgan.  "What'll I do with
young coal-box, sir?  Better chain him up in the shed, hadn't I, or
he'll be off?"

My father did not reply for some moments, but stood watching the boy, as
he lay with his bright eyes fixed on first one and then the other, like
a wild creature ready to act on its defence.

"He must have known a good deal of this negro," said my father,
thoughtfully.  "Go and slacken that rope."

"If I do, sir, he'll go off like a 'coon, and we shall never see him
again," said Morgan.

"Did you hear my orders?" said my father, in the sharp military way in
which he spoke sometimes.

Morgan went to the ring-bolt, and began to unfasten the rope, when at
the first quiver the boy half started up and remained crouching, ready
to spring away.

"Shall I go on, sir?" said Morgan.

"Yes; slacken the rope sufficiently to let him reach the man."

"He'll make a dash for it, Master George," grumbled Morgan.

He was right, for the boy did make a dash as soon as he saw that the
rope which tethered him to the tree was loosened, but only to creep
close up to the negro, thrust his arm under his neck, and press close to
his side.

"I thought so," said my father.  "Draw that rope from the shackles."

"What, undo him altogether, sir?"

"Yes."

"Oh, all right, Master George," grumbled Morgan to me.  "I could have
leathered the young imp into shape, and made a labourer of him in time;
but if your father likes to waste his money it is no business of mine."

My father's back was towards us, and he was standing at some little
distance so as not to startle the boy, who rose again, crouched, and
looked wildly at us, as the rope which had been simply passed through
the iron shackles began to run through a link till the end was drawn
out, and run over the ground to where Morgan stood grumbling and coiling
up the rope.

"No, he will not," said my father, gravely.  "There is something
stronger than hempen rope to hold him, George, evidently.  Unless I am
much mistaken, he will not leave the poor fellow's side."

"Ah, well, sir," said Morgan, as he hung the rope on the stump of a
branch, "they're your niggers, and niggers _is_ niggers.  I shouldn't
trust 'em, and they'll cut and run."

"If they do, my man, I shall be sorry," said my father, gravely, "for
they may fall into worse hands than ours.  We have no key to those
shackles; could you turn them with a file?"

"Little screwdriver may do it, sir?" said Morgan, thoughtfully.

"Fetch it from the tool-chest," said my father, shortly; and Morgan went
off grumbling something about waste of money.

He was back in a short time, during which the black still slept, and the
boy crouched by him watching us eagerly.

"Now," said my father, "see if you can open those ankle-rings.  No, no;
I mean the man's."

"But s'pose he's only shamming, sir, and jumps up, half kills me, and
runs?"

"I'll forgive him if he does," said my father, dryly, "for you are
getting to be a very dictatorial, meddling, insolent servant, Morgan."

"Well!" exclaimed Morgan.  "Hear that, Master George, and after me
following faithful all the way to these here wild shores.  Ah, master, I
didn't think you'd ha' said--Hi!  Keep back, you young warmint!"

For at the first movement of Morgan toward the sleeping black's feet,
the boy sprang up and showed his teeth like a dog.

"Stop!  Keep back," said my father, and Morgan drew away, muttering
something about a savage young tom wolf.

"It is quite natural," said my father, "and strengthens my ideas.  He
thought his companion was going to be hurt."  As my father spoke, he
moved toward the boy.

"Don't go anigh him without a stick, sir," said Morgan, hastily.

My father did not notice the remark, but turned to me.

"Be on your guard, George," he said; "but be firm, and I think the poor
fellow will understand what you are going to do.  Take the screwdriver,
and try if you can unfasten the boy's anklets first."

I obeyed, and advanced to the boy, whose aspect was rather startling;
but I went down on my knees, and before he could fly at me I caught
quickly hold of the chain which connected his legs.

That made him pause for a moment, and look down sharply to see what I
was going to do.  He seemed to have some idea directly; and as luck
would have it, the little square hole that was used to turn the screw
was toward me, the screwdriver went in, and it turned so easily that I
was able to open the filthy, rusty shackle, and set one leg free.

The boy's head moved like that of a bird, as he looked first at his foot
and then at me, and he stood quite still now, as I unscrewed the second
anklet and took it off.

"Throw the chains into the river," said my father.

"No, no," cried Morgan; "they may come in handy."

"For you?" said my father, with a curious smile.

Splash!  Went the iron rings and links, and the boy looked puzzled, but
made no opposition as I knelt down hard by the sleeping negro's feet,
and using the screwdriver as a key, opened both the anklets in turn, and
pointed to them as they lay on the grass, looking hard at the lad the
while.

He stared at me stupidly for a few moments, and then in a curiously
sullen manner stooped down, knelt down, and began to replace them on the
sleeping man's legs.

"No, no," I shouted; and the boy started away, flinching as if expecting
a blow; but as I stood pointing down at the irons, he stooped once more
and picked them up, looking at me wonderingly again, but as I pointed to
the river a flash of intelligence came from his eyes, and he whisked the
irons over his head, and cast them right out into the stream.

"Now fetch him something to eat," said my father, as the boy crouched
down by the man's head again under the shelter.

I went for some bread, and after a long time managed to make the boy
take it; but he only snatched it up after the fashion of a wild animal,
and ate it voraciously.

"There," said my father at last; "leave them now.  I dare say the poor
fellow will sleep for hours, and it will be the best thing for him.
Don't go far away, George; and if you find that he wakes, try and give
him some bread soaked in that thin French wine."

"Well," said Morgan, as soon as my father had gone back into the house,
"you don't catch me saying any more about it; but your father gave a lot
o' money for them two, and they might ha' been useful on the plantation;
but you mark my word, Master George, that there big nigger 'll begin to
open first one eye and then the other when we aren't looking; then him
and the boy 'll slip into the boat, and a'most afore we know it, look
you, they'll be gone."

"Nonsense, Morgan!"  I said.

"Nonsense!  Why, no, my boy, I reckon it's madness.  If master didn't
mean to have slaves why did he buy them?"

"To save them from being ill-treated."

"Ill-treated?" said Morgan, scornfully; "why, they're only niggers."

"Well, they're men, Morgan."

"Dunno so much about that, Master George.  They're blacks, that's what
they are, and everybody but master buys 'em to work on the plantations.
I did think master was going to be sensible at last.  Only slaves!"

"How would you like to be a slave, Morgan?"

"Me, Master George?  Well, you see I couldn't be.  I aren't a black.
There, I've got lots to do, and can't stand talking here.  These weeds
'll be all over my garden again directly.  You're going to stop, I
s'pose?"

"Yes."

"Well, call me if they seize the boat.  We can't let 'em have that.
When they do go, they'll have to swim."

So Morgan went off to his hoeing, and I stopped under the shade of the
big magnolia to keep my long watch.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

I kept about near the rough shelter rigged up for the two blacks,
wondering how my father would set about giving them their freedom, for I
seemed fully to understand that this was what he intended to do.  Every
now and then I glanced toward the place, where everything was
wonderfully still, and at such times I found myself thinking about
Morgan's words; and it appeared only natural that the poor fellows
should try to escape, being quite in ignorance of the hands into which
they had fallen; but if they did, I was fully determined to put a stop
to their taking our boat, for I did not mean to lose that, and have my
fishing expeditions spoiled.

After a time my task began to grow tedious, and I wanted to go and peep
in to see if they were asleep; but somehow I shrank from doing this, and
I began to wander about, now up to the house, and now back to the river,
thinking, as I stood there gazing down into the clear water, that it
would not be safe for the two blacks to lie there after dark, when the
great alligators came crawling out of the pools in search of food.  For
there were plenty of accounts current among the settlers of how people
had been attacked by the great reptiles, and I meant to suggest to my
father that the two should be sheltered in the great shed, which had a
strong door.

I glanced toward the canvas which hung from the spar, and suddenly awoke
to the fact that there was something black at one end; seeing directly
after that a bright eye was watching me, but only to be carefully
withdrawn as soon as its owner realised that he was seen.

I smiled to myself at this, and went off into the garden, where I could
hear Morgan's great hoe with its regular chop-chop, as he battled away
with the weeds which refused to acknowledge the difference between wild
waste and cultivated ground.

"Hullo!" cried Morgan, as soon as he saw me.  "What, have they slipped
off?"

"Slipped off?  No," I said, indignantly.  "I want a peach."

"Right, my lad," said Morgan; "and, look you, get one off the further
tree; they're not the best to look at, but they're the sweetest and the
best to taste, I can tell you."

Peaches grew easily and plentifully in the hot sunshine of our garden,
and securing a sample of the best, I went back toward the landing-place,
where I saw the boy's head pop back out of sight as soon as I appeared.
Then laying down the fruit just within reach of the corner from which I
had seen the boy watching me, I was in the act of turning away, when I
saw that I was being watched from the other side.

"Hullo, Morgan!"  I said.  "You there?"

"Yes, Master George, I'm here, and it's time I was," he cried, sourly.
"Do you think your father and me grafted them peach trees, and coaxed
'em on into bearing, for you to feed niggers with them?"

"I've a right to do what I like with the fruit, if I don't eat it," I
said, angrily.

"Oh, very well; I've done.  Seems to me that if master's to be always
bullying me on one side, and you on the other, the sooner I make up my
bundle and go home to Carnarvon, the better."

"That's what you always say, Morgan," I replied, laughing; "but you
never do go."

"Ah, but you'll see some day; and then you'll be sorry," he grumbled,
and away he went.

"I don't want to hurt his feelings," I thought; "but he needn't be so
disagreeable about the poor black fellows."

After a time I went to the shelter and looked in, to see that the man
was lying with his eyes opened; and, recalling what my father had said,
I gave him some bread and wine, which he ate as it was put to his lips,
in a dull, forbidding way which took all the pleasure out of what I had
thought was an act of kindness.

The peaches had disappeared, and I was saying to myself, "You might have
given him one!" when I found that both of them were lying close to the
black's head untouched.

About sunset my father came and looked at his purchase in a very grave
way, and then apparently satisfied he drew back.

"The man is recovering," he said.  "We saved his life, my boy, but they
must not stay there to-night.  I hardly believe that an alligator would
attack them; but one great fellow has been travelling through the garden
in the night, and if he came near them, there would be a terrible scare
if nothing worse."

"Where are they to go then, father?"

"In the large shed.  There are plenty of bundles of corn straw, and they
must make shift with that until we can build them a hut."

"Build them a hut?"  I said, in wondering tones.  "Are they going to
stop?"

"Stop?  Where else can they go, my lad?"

"I did not think of that, father," I said.

"No, poor fellows, when they have been sold into slavery, there is no
going back.  Even if we could put them ashore in Africa, it would only
be for them to be slain or sold again."

"Then--" I stopped short, afraid to finish my speech.

"Well, what were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask you if--if--"

"I was going to keep slaves like my neighbours, eh?"

"Yes, father," I said, bluntly.

"Yes, my boy.  It is forced upon me to do so; but it will be an easy
slavery, George.  We have thrown their chains away, and they are free to
go wherever they like.  Now call Morgan, and let's have them up here."

I called our man, and the sail was dragged aside, for the boy to crouch
menacingly by the man, who lay gazing at us in a dull, heavy way.

"How are we to make them understand?" said my father, who advanced, bent
down, and took hold of the negro's wrist and felt his pulse.

The boy bared his teeth, but the man said a word or two in his own
language, and the boy drew back.

"Stronger, decidedly," said my father; and he stood watching his
patient, while I fetched some more bread and soaked it in wine.

He ate it slowly and mechanically, like some beast of burden, and when
it was finished my father signed to him to get up, saying the words at
the same time.

He evidently understood, and tried to raise himself, nearly reaching to
a sitting position, but falling back from sheer weakness, and gazing
shrinkingly at us as if expecting a blow.

But as no blow came he spoke to the boy, who at once took his hands and
pulled him into a sitting position, but the man could do no more, and
uttered a low groan in his abject weakness as he gazed up in his eyes.

My father thought for a moment and then turned to Morgan.

"Get the sail," he said; and the triangular piece of canvas was spread
beside the man on the ground.

"Now," said my father, "creep on to that, and we'll carry you."

The man looked up at him with his brow puckered over with lines, but he
did not comprehend.

"Show him what I mean," said my father; and I lay down on the canvas,
and then rose up, and my father pointed.

The negro understood him, spoke to the boy, and with his help and
Morgan's half rolled, half dragged himself on to the sail.

"Now," said my father; "he's big and heavy; Morgan and I will take the
top, you take the bottom, George.  If you could get that boy to
understand, it would be easy."

I took hold of the bottom of the sail and made signs to the boy, but he
could not or would not understand, till the black uttered a guttural
word or two, when he came shrinkingly to my side, and took hold,
watching me the while as if to be aware of danger.

"Now then," said my father, "I don't suppose you two can lift; but if
you ease the load up a little from the ground, that will be all that is
necessary.  Now together, Morgan."

They turned their backs on us as they took a good hold of the sail, and
began to drag our load toward the great barn-like shed at the end of the
house, reaching it without much difficulty, and drawing the sail right
over a quantity of dry corn-stalks.

Here, after giving them some food to eat if they desired it, we left
them and closed the door.

"There, Morgan," said my father, with a smile, as we crossed the garden,
"I am a slave-owner now like my neighbours, and as soon as that man is
well and strong, you will have no excuse for grumbling about the want of
help."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

I was so curious the next morning to see whether the slaves had run
away, that I crept down soon after daybreak, and a curious feeling of
vexation came over me as I saw that the door of the big shed was open.

"They're gone," I said, and ran back and down to the landing-place, to
see if they had taken to the boat.

But there it was, all safe, and I drew back and stood watching as I
caught sight of a droll-looking object, so busy that he had not noticed
me; for about forty yards away there was the boy, coating himself all
over with the soft yellow mud he scooped up from the stream, where he
stood about up to his knees, rubbing it well, and not forgetting his
woolly head, just as I might have used soap.

The appearance of the boy was so comical that I could hardly keep back a
laugh.  But I refrained, and watched him earnestly at work for a few
minutes, before throwing himself down, and sluicing off the thin mud,
his black skin appearing once more, and ending by diving out into deep
water, and beginning to swim with an ease that I envied.

This went on for about ten minutes, when he came out dripping, gave
himself a shake, and then catching sight of me, ran up the bank and as
hard as he could go for the shed.

I followed, and on reaching it found that the boy was not visible,
having probably hidden himself among the corn-stalks, while his
companion lay sleeping heavily--a great savage-looking black.

I came away without closing the door, thinking of my father's words; and
I'm afraid with something of the same thoughts as I should have had
about some of the wild creatures I had before tried to tame, I began to
long for the coming down of Mrs Morgan to prepare breakfast, meaning to
get from her a good bowl of the Indian corn porridge that she regularly
prepared.

As it happened she was extra early that morning; and as soon as I had
proffered my request, she informed me rather tartly that she knew all
about it, for the master had given her orders the night before.

By the time it was ready and cooling, my father was down.

"That for the blacks?" he said, as he saw the bowl I was taking to the
shed.

"Yes," I said; and I told him about what I had seen.

"Poor fellow!  I am not surprised," he said.  "What can be more horrible
than the way in which they were confined?"

The man was awake, and on our entering the dim shed he made an effort to
rise, but fell back helplessly, and lay gazing at us in a half fierce,
half sullen way, not changing his aspect as my father felt his pulse,
and laid his hand upon his head.

"Hah!  That's better," said my father; "less fever.  If he can eat, it
is only a question of time.  Where is the boy?"

We looked round, but he was invisible.

"Call the boy," said my father, looking hard at the man, and pointing to
the food; but there was no sign of being understood, and my father
turned to me.  "Set the bowl down," he said.  "They will get used to us
in time."

I followed him out, and we went in to our breakfast, where the position
was pretty well discussed.

"Let them be, poor wretches," said my father at last.  "By and by,
perhaps, they will find out that all white people do not mean evil by
them.  It is very unfortunate, and I had made a vow that I would never
have a slave, and here I am with two of my own purchasing."

As soon as I could get away, I hurried off to the shed to hear a quick
rustling sound as I neared the door, and I got to the opening time
enough to see some of the corn-stalks in motion, betraying where the boy
had rushed off to on hearing my steps.

I did not make a rush after him, for fear of making him more wild, but
took up the bowl to find it empty, and I looked at our invalid and
laughed.  But he made no sign, only gazed at me with the same weary
sullen look, and I went away feeling a little disheartened.

"Hullo, Master George, been to see my deppyties?" said Morgan.  "I was
just going to look at 'em.  That big black isn't going to die, is he?"

I turned back with him to the door of the shed, and he stood gazing in.

"No; he won't die this time.  But I don't much like his looks, Master
George.  Seems the sort of fellow to turn ugly and knock me down with
the big hoe, and I shan't like that, nor my wife neither.  Where's young
smutty?"

"Under the corn-stalks in the corner."

"What, hiding?"

"Yes."

"Here, stop a minute till I get the pitchfork; I'll soon turn him out."

"No, no," I cried; "they're to be treated gently."

"And as if they were human beings," said my father's stern voice, for he
had come silently behind us.  "Have the goodness to remember that,
Morgan.  If I am to be a slave-owner, my people shall meet with
consideration, and not be treated as if they were the beasts of the
field.  Do you understand?"

"Oh yes, sir, I understand," said Morgan, good-humouredly; "you can
count on me doing what's right by them.  They can't help the colour of
their skins."

"I am satisfied," said my father, quietly, and he left us staring in
that heavy, sombre face before us--a face full of despair, but one to
which we could not address words of sympathy.

The change that took place in the man day by day was wonderful, as far
as health was concerned.  In three days he was walking slowly about; in
a week he was ready to take the tool in hand which Morgan gave him, and
he went on clumsily with the work he was set to do, but displaying
strength that was the admiration of us all.  But he was moody,
shrinking, and suspicious, and the boy was precisely the same.  For it
always seemed to me that the boy was constantly on the look-out to avoid
a blow or some ill-usage on my part, and his companion to be expecting
it from my father.  The treatment they had been receiving for months had
utterly cowed them, but when they began to realise that they had fallen
among friends, the change was rapid indeed.

Of course they could not understand us, and when they spoke, which was
very seldom, their language was utterly beyond our comprehension; but we
got on pretty well by signs, after a few weeks when the change came.

It was one glorious afternoon, when, after worrying Morgan into getting
me some bait, I prepared my rough lines for fishing, and while I was
disentangling the hooks which had been thrown carelessly together, the
boy who was passing nodded and looked on.

"Going fishing," I said.  "Come with me?"

He looked at me without comprehension, and when I took hold of him by
the arm, he shrank away.

"Oh, I say," I said, "I wish you wouldn't.  Who's going to hit you?
Carry this basket."

I placed one in his hand, and gave him the pot containing the bait in
the other, signed to him to follow, and in a dull, sad way he came
behind to where the boat was moored; but as soon as he saw me step in,
he began to look wildly out into the stream, and to shrink away.

"It's all right," I said, "there's no slaver out there.  Come along."

But he shrank away more and more, with his eyes dilating, and he said a
few words quite fiercely in his own tongue.

"Don't be so stupid," I said, jumping out and securing him just in time
to stop him from running off with my bait and lines.

He struggled for a moment, but ceased, and in a drooping, dejected way
allowed me to lead him to the boat, into which he stepped sadly, and
dropped down in a sitting position, with his legs under him, and his
head bent upon his breast.

"Oh, I say," I cried, "don't do that.  Look here; we are going fishing.
Here, take an oar and row."

I had cast off the boat, and we were floating down the stream as I
placed the oar in his hands, took the other, and in a sad, depressed,
obedient way, he clumsily imitated my actions, rowing steadily if not
ably on.

"There," I said, when we were as far out as I wished to be; "that will
do.  Lay your oar in like that," and I laid down my own.

He obeyed me, and then sat looking at me as mournfully as if I were
going to drown him.

"Oh, I do wish you'd try and take it differently," I said, looking
pleasantly at him the while.  "Now, look here, I'm going to catch a
fish."

As I spoke, I put a large bait on the strong hook I had ready, threw it
over the side, and twisted the stout cord round my hand, while the boy
sat watching me.

"Well, you have got a bit better," I said to him; "the other day you
always wanted to bite.  Do try and come round, because you're not a
slave, after all.  Oh!"

I uttered a yell, as I started up to pay out line, for, as we floated
gently down stream, there was a tremendous tug which cut my hand, and
seemed ready to jerk my arm from out its socket.

But I had so twisted the line that I could not pay it out, and as I
stood, there came another so fierce a tug that I lost my balance, caught
at the boy to save myself, and the light boat careened over, and seemed
to shoot us both out into the river.

For a few moments the water thundered in my ears; the great fish, which
must have been a gar pike, tugged at my hand, broke away, and I was
swimming with the black head of the boy close by me, as we struggled as
quickly as we could to the bank, reached it together, climbed out, and I
dropped down into a sitting position, with my companion staring
wonderingly at me.

His aspect was so comical, and his eyes sought mine in such a wondering
way, as if asking me whether this was the way I went fishing, that I
burst out into an uncontrollable roar of laughter, when, to my utter
astonishment, the sad black face before me began to expand, the eyes to
twinkle, the white teeth to show, and for the first time perhaps for
months the boy laughed as merrily as I did.

Then, all at once, I remembered the boat, which was floating steadily
away down stream toward the big river, and pointing to it, I ran as far
as I could along the bank, and plunged in to swim out and secure it.

There was another plunge and the boy was by my side, and we swam on, he
being ready to leave me behind, being far more active in the water than
I.  But he kept waiting for me, till I pointed on at the boat, and he
seemed to understand, and went on.

The boat had gone into a swift current, and it was a long way from where
I swam, and by degrees I began to find that I had rather miscalculated
my strength.  I was only lightly clad, but my clothes began to feel
heavy, the banks to look a long way off, and the boat as far; while all
at once the thought struck me, after I had been swimming some time, that
I should never be able to reach the boat or the shore.

I tried to get rid of the fancy, but it would not go, and one effect of
that thought was to make me swim more quickly than I should have done,
or, as I should express it, use my limbs more rapidly than I ought, so
that I was quickly growing tired, and at last so utterly worn out that a
cold chill came over me.  I looked despairingly to right and left at the
beautiful tree-hung river-side, and then forward to where the boy had
just reached the boat, and saw him climb in, the sun shining upon his
wet back.

"Hi!  Boy!"  I shouted, "take the oars, and row."

I might as well have held my tongue, for he could not understand a word;
and as I shouted again and again I looked at him despairingly, for he
was sitting on the thwart laughing, with the boat gliding downstream
faster than I seemed to be able to swim, while I knew that I should
never be able to overtake it, and that I was getting deeper in the
water.

"Oh, if I could only make him understand!--if I could only make him
understand!"  I kept thinking, as I shouted again hoarsely; and this
time he did seem to comprehend that something was wrong, for I saw him
jump up and begin making signs to me.  Then he shouted something, and I
saw that he was about to jump in again as if to come to me.

But he stopped, and took up one of the oars, to begin rowing, but of
course only to send the boat round.  Then, as if puzzled, he put the oar
over the other side, and rowed hard like that, to send the boat's head
in the other direction, repeating this again and again, and now standing
up to shout to me.

I could not shout in return, only stare at him wildly, as he kept on
making ineffective efforts to row to me, till all seemed to be over; the
bright water and the beautiful green banks began to grow misty; and I
knew that though I might keep struggling on for a few minutes, I should
never reach the boat, and that he would never be able to row it to me.

I did not feel in much trouble nor get in any great alarm, for I suppose
the severe exertion dulled everything, and robbed my sufferings of their
poignancy as I still swam on more and more slowly, with my starting eyes
fixed upon the boat still many yards away from me, and growing more and
more dim as the water began to bubble about my lips.

All at once in front of me I saw the boy's black figure rise up in the
boat like a shadow.  Then there was a splash and the water flashed up,
and I knew he must be swimming toward me to help me; but I could not see
that he had taken the rope in his teeth, after finding himself unable to
row in my direction, and had essayed to swim to me and tug the boat in
his wake.

This in so swift a stream was impossible, but his brave act saved my
life, for he was able to hold his own by swimming hard till the current
bore me down to him just as I was sinking; and my next recollection is
of feeling myself clutched and my hand being raised to the edge of the
boat, while one arm was about my waist.

The feeling of comparative security brought back my fleeting senses, and
I made a convulsive clutch with the other hand at the gunwale; while the
next thing I remember is feeling myself helped over the side by the boy,
who had climbed in, and lying in the bottom with the sun beating down
upon me--sick almost to death.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

By a wonderfully kindly arrangement of nature we recover very rapidly
when we are young; and before half an hour had passed I was seated on
the thwart, using one of the oars, while the boy was using the other,
but he kept leaving off rowing to gaze earnestly in my face; and when I
smiled at him to show him that I was better, he showed his white teeth,
and even then I could not help thinking what a bright, chubby-looking
face he had, as he plunged his oar in again, and tugged at it, rowing
very clumsily, of course, but helping me to get the boat along till we
reached the rough logs and the stumps which formed our landing-place,
where I was very glad to get ashore and make the boat fast.

"Well, George, how many fish?" cried my father, as I went up to the
house, to find him in the garden trying to direct the big black how to
use his hoe.

"None, father," I said, half hysterically, for I was quite broken down.

"Why, what's the matter?" he said.  "Hallo!  Been in?"

"Yes--been drowned--that boy."

"What!" cried my father, furiously.

"No, no!  He jumped in--saved me--I was going down."

I saw my father close his eyes, and his lips moved as he stood holding
my hand in his, evidently struggling with his emotion.  Then he said
quietly--

"Better go in and get some dry clothes, and--"

He stopped and stood listening and gazing in wonder at the great negro
and my companion, for the boy had gone up to him, and gesticulating
rapidly and with animated face he seemed to be relating what had passed.

The change that came over the big fellow's face was wonderful.  The
minute before it wore its old, hard, darkening look of misery, with the
eyes wild and the forehead all wrinkled and creased; but now as he stood
listening, his eyes lit up, his forehead grew smooth, and his face
seemed to have grown younger; his tightly-drawn-together lips parted,
showing his white teeth.  So that as my father took a step or two
forward, seized the boy's arm, and then laid his hand upon his head, it
was a completely transformed countenance that looked in my father's.
For the man caught his hand, bent down and held it against his forehead,
saying a few words in a low tone, and then drew respectfully away.

"You have had a narrow escape, my boy," said my father, huskily; "but
out of evil sometimes comes good; and it looks as if your accident has
broken the ice.  Those two are completely transformed.  It is just as if
we had been doing them good, instead of their doing good to us.  But
there, get in.  I don't want to have you down with a fever."

My father was right; our two servants--I will not call them slaves, for
they never were that to us--appeared indeed to be quite transformed, and
from that day they always greeted me with a smile, and seemed to be
struggling hard to pick up the words of our language, making, too, the
most rapid progress.  The heavy, hard look had gone from the black's
face, and the boy was always showing his white teeth, and on the
look-out either to do something for me, or to go with me on my
excursions.

In a week it was "Mass' George," and in a month, in a blundering way, he
could begin to express what he had to say, but only to break down and
stamp, ending by bursting into a hearty laugh.

It was my doing that the pair were called Pompey and Hannibal, and day
after day, as I used to be out in the garden, watching the big black,
who had entirely recovered his strength, display how great that strength
was, I wondered how it was possible that the great happy-looking fellow
could be the same dull, morose savage that we had brought dying ashore.

At the end of another couple of months, I went in one day full of a new
discovery.

"Do you know who Pomp is, father?"  I exclaimed.

"Yes; an unfortunate young negro from the west coast of Africa."

"Yes, father, but more than that.  Hannibal has been telling me, and I
think I understand him, though it's rather hard.  They lived in a
village up the country, and the enemy came in the night, and killed
some, and took the rest prisoners to march them down to the coast, and
sell them for slaves.  Pomp's mother was one of them, and she fell down
and died on the march."

"Did Hannibal tell you this?"

"Yes, father, and sat and cried as he told me; and Pompey's his son."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes.  He always calls Pompey `my boy,' and Pomp called him `fader'
to-day."

"Ah, but that may merely be imitation."

"I don't think it is," I said, eagerly; and I proved to be right, for
they certainly were father and son.

The winter came and passed rapidly away, and it was never cold to
signify, and with the coming spring all thoughts of the Indians and the
Spaniards died away.

My father would talk about the Indians' visitation sometimes, but he
considered that it was only to see if we were disposed to be enemies,
and likely to attack them; but finding we did not interfere in the
least, and were the most peaceable of neighbours, they were content to
leave us alone.

"And the Spaniards only tried to frighten us away, Morgan," I said one
day.

"Well, I s'pose so, Master George; but you see we're so shut up here we
never know what's going to take place unless a ship puts in.  It's a
very beautiful place, but there isn't a road, you see, that's worth
calling a road.  Ah, there were roads in Carnarvon!"

"I don't believe you'd care to go back to them though, Morgan," I said.

"Well, I hardly know, Master George; you see this place don't 'pear to
agree with our Sarah's temper.  It gets very trying sometimes when it's
hot.  It was very hot this morning, and she was so put out that when
young Pomp put his black head in at the door she threw the big wooden
shovel at him."

"But what for?"

"That's what I said to her, Master George.  `Sarah,' I says, `what had
the poor black boy done to make you throw things at him?'

"`Done,' she says; `didn't you see him put his head round the door and
grin at me?'

"`Well,' I says, `Sarah, my girl, that's only his way of showing that he
likes you.'

"`Then I don't want him to like me, and he's more trouble than he's
worth.'  And there's a lot of truth in that, Master George."

"Why he works hard, Morgan," I said.

"Yes, just so long as you are watching him.  Then he's off to play some
prank or another.  That boy always seems to me as if he must be doing
something he ought not to do."

"Oh, he's a very good boy."

"Never make such a man as his father, my lad.  Humph!  Here he is."

I turned, and there, sure enough, was Pomp making a large display of his
white teeth, and holding something behind so that we should not see.

"What have you got?"  I said.

He drew a basket forward and displayed four good-sized terrapins, and
offered them to Morgan for a present.

"No, no," grumbled the man, "I don't want them, and I'm sure that the
missus would find fault if I took them in.  She hates them; besides, I'm
not going to be sugared over like that, to keep me from speaking out.
Now, look here, you've been fishing."

"Yes, sah.  Kedge de terrupum."

"And I told you to hoe down between those yams, didn't I?"

"Yes, Mass' Morgan, I going to hoe down de yam-yam."

"But why isn't it done?"

"I d'know," said Pomp, innocently.

"You don't know?"

"No, sah, don't know 'tall."

"But I told you to do them," said Morgan, angrily.  "Didn't I?"

"Yes, sah."

"Then why didn't you do them?"

"Wanted to go and kedge terrupum."

"Now, look here, sir, you've got to do what you're told."

"What you tell me, den?"

"I told you to go and hoe those yams, and you neglected the duty to go
fishing."

"Yes, sir, go fishing; kedge terrupum."

"Instead of doing your work."

"Mass' Morgan, sah," began Pomp, in a tone of protest, but Morgan
interrupted him.

"Now then, how is it those yams are not hoed?"

"Don't know, sah.  Tell Hannibal hoe them."

"You told Hannibal to hoe them--your father?"

"Yes, tell um fader hoe um; Mass' Morgan want um done."

"Yes, but I wanted you to do them."

"Yes, sah, and I want um fader to hoe um yam while I go kedge terrupum.
You make big holler at um for not do um."

"Now then, look you, Master George, oughtn't this fellow to be flogged?"

"You say no, Mass' George, and--"

Morgan darted out a hand to catch Pomp's arm, but the boy was too quick,
and dodged behind me.

"Let him be," I said; "he doesn't know any better."

"But I want to teach him better," grumbled Morgan.

"Hist!  Mass' George.  I find great 'gator."

"Where?"  I asked, eagerly, for I had long had an idea that I should
like to see another of the monsters.

"Down by de ribber.  All lay long so, out in de hot sun."

Pomp threw himself on the ground, and wallowed along a little way.  "All
along so, sah, while I done kedge de terrupum, and then all along tell
Mass' George come and shoot um."

"How big was it?"  I said, eagerly.

"Big as ebber so much.  Come on, see um, Mass' George."

"It's only some little one, half as big as the one we pulled out of the
hole," said Morgan.  "You never want to go on them games now you've got
that black chap."

"Oh, I'll go with you any time, if you'll come."

"Too busy, sir, too busy.  Going to get a gun?"

"Yes, I'll go and see.  It may be a big one.  Colonel Preston's man told
me there are some very big ones up the river on the mud-banks."

"Yes, sir, but nobody ever sees them."

"Well, I'll try this time, and if my father asks for me, say where I've
gone."

I heard Morgan mutter something, but paid no heed, knowing that it was
something about being careful with the gun, for I was not without my
share of conceit and belief in my capacity of taking care of a gun.  For
my father had rather encouraged me to practise with his fowling-piece,
as also with one of the heavy fire-locks we had in the house.

"An emergency might come," he said; and what with his instructions and
those of Morgan, I was, if not a good marksman, as fairly expert as
could be expected from a boy of my years.

I soon had the gun from its slings, and, providing myself with powder
and ball, rejoined Pomp, whose eyes rolled with excitement at the sight
of the piece.

"Me carry de powder shot bag," he cried, eagerly; and I let him sling
the pouches over his shoulder, and followed behind him, as he marched
off with head erect, and a look of pride that was ludicrous.  He was, as
a rule, a creature apparently made up of springs, which were always
setting him in motion; but when bound upon any shooting or fishing
excursion the natural pride in his brain rose above everything else, and
I was often turned into quite a secondary personage, and had to obey.

It was so upon this occasion, for just as we reached the edge of the
forest he stopped short, and in a stern whisper said--

"'Top here and load um gun, or wake ole 'gator where um sleep."

I obeyed, of course, ramming home a bullet, and as I was in the act of
removing the rod from the barrel, Pomp suddenly exclaimed--

"Top um bit."

He ran off at full speed, and came back with his eyes flashing, and
flourishing a small axe which he had fetched from the shed.  This he
directly after thrust into his belt, and holding up his hand,
whispered--

"Now, no make noise.  I go first."

He went on, leading me through the drier part of the swamp, and right
away from the river, to my great wonderment; but after walking silently
about half an hour he stopped, again held up his hand, and then with the
greatest of caution crept on through the bushes, and in and out among
the swamp-trees, never making the slightest sound, and I followed as
well as I could for about a quarter of an hour, when he signed to me to
stop, and I knew by the bright light a little farther on that the river
was pretty near.

The next moment he was down flat, crawling slowly over the mossy ground,
looking back to see if I was watching him, and pausing at last close to
a gnarled old tree, which he tried to keep between him and the water.

I had been watching him lying there for about five minutes, when I
became aware of the fact that he was returning as silently as he had
gone, and as he reached me he put his lips to my ear.

"'Gator sleep in de mud.  Mass' George, crawl up to de big tree, look
'long gun, and shoot um."

I was skilled enough then in the huntsman's craft to know what to do,
and divesting myself of hat and boots, I went down and crawled
cautiously in the trail made by the boy, trying hard to go as silently
and with as little effort, but the nervous excitement set my heart
beating, and by the time I reached the great gnarled tree I felt
breathless, and my hands trembled exceedingly.

I lay quite still for a few minutes before venturing to do more, and
then inch by inch I drew myself sidewise, and peered round the rugged
trunk of the tree.

The next moment I was quite paralysed by the surprise I felt, for there,
not twenty feet away from the spot where I lay, was a monstrous
alligator, evidently fast asleep on a glistening mud-bank, his trail
from the water being distinctly marked in the soft mud.  There were the
prints of his paws, and of his long tapering tail, and I could do
nothing but gaze at his great proportions.

As far as I could judge he was about fourteen feet long, but evidently
of great age, from his bulk, his horny hide banded and barred and
corrugated, while the strength of such a beast must be, I knew,
tremendous.

How long I watched the sleeping monster I cannot tell, but it was some
time before I woke up to the fact that I had come on purpose to put an
end to its destructive career, and that I had a gun ready charged in my
hand lying close alongside.

Then with my heart beating fast I slowly pushed the barrel forward,
resting it upon one of the mossy buttresses at the tree-trunk, my eyes
fixed all the time upon the great closed and smiling mouth, and the
peculiar heavily-browed eyes.

As if I were moved by something that was not myself, I gradually got the
gun into position, grasping it firmly and pressing the butt home, while
I carefully sighted the monster, wondering a little what the
consequences would be if I missed, whether I should be attacked, and
whether I should have time to get away.  But directly after every sense
was concentrated upon the task I had in hand, and just as I was about to
draw trigger the creature quickly raised its head, as if suspecting the
nearness of danger.

I was well ready though now, and raised the barrel of my gun slightly,
pressed it against the tree, and fired.

There was the roar of the gun, a tremendous kick on the shoulder, and
beyond the heavy sour-smelling smoke by which I was surrounded I heard a
tremendous splashing and thrashing noise, accompanied by heavy blows, as
if the monster was striking hard at something near.

But I lay perfectly still, feeling that the wounded monster would on
seeing me make a spring, and if it did I knew that my life was at an
end.

The splashings and the dull beating sound continued, but I kept behind
the sheltering tree, now wondering whether the creature would have
strength to get back into the river, or whether it would be there
waiting for its assailant.  At last, fascinated as it were by the desire
to peep round the tree-trunk which sheltered me from my victim, I gently
peered out, and stared in astonishment, for there was Pomp busy at work
with his axe cutting off the reptile's head, while the tail kept
writhing and lashing the stream, alongside which it had nearly crawled.

"Dat's got um," cried Pomp.  "Hi!  Ohey!  Mass' George."

I was already on my legs, and, gun in hand, I parted the bushes, and
joined the boy just as the monster gave a tremendous heave and a writhe,
and rolled off the bank with a tremendous splash in the water.

"Ah, you no kedge fish and eat um no more, eh, Mass' George?" he cried.
"'Gator no good widout um head, eh?"

I looked down on the mud, and there, sure enough, lay the creature's
head.

"Why, Pomp!"  I exclaimed; "what have you been doing?"

"Cut off um head, Mass' George.  He no like dat."

Pomp broke out with one of his laughs, hooked hold of the grinning head,
and dragged it out of the mud up to the side of a clear pool, a little
way back in the swamp.

"Stop a bit," I said; "I want to have a good look at it."

"Wait till I wash um, Mass' George.  No; must wash umself fus.  Here a
mess."

Pomp was about to jump into the pool to wash the mud from his legs, when
he suddenly clapped his hands.

"Oh, here's game, Mass' George; only look.  Dat's ole 'gator's house a
water, where he keep all 'um lil pickaninny.  Look at 'um."

Sure enough, there were five or six small alligators at the far end--
little fellows not very long out of the shell.

"Oh dear!" cried Pomp, "I very sorry for you poor fellows.  Poor old
fader got um head cut off.  What, you no b'lieve um?  Den look dah."

He threw the great head into the pool with a splash, and then jumped in
to stand up to his knees, washing it about till it was free from mud,
and his legs too, when he dragged it out again on to the green moss, and
we proceeded to examine the horrible jaws.

"Him much worse den Pomp."

"What do you mean?"

"Mass' Morgan and de capen say Pomp do lot o' mischuff.  Dat do more
mischuff den Pomp."

"Yes, I should think so," I said, as I examined the dripping head, and
saw plainly that my bullet must have gone right through the monster's
brain, probably only stunning it for the time being, and enough to give
the boy time to hack off its head.  For these creatures have an amount
of vitality that is wonderful, and after injuries that are certain in
the end to prove fatal, contrive to get back into the water and swim
away.

It was a long time before I was satisfied with gazing at the grinning
head, with its great teeth and holes in the upper jaw into which they
seemed to fit as into a sheath.  At last though I turned to the boy.

"We must take it home, Pomp," I said.

"No," he said, with a look of disgust.  "Um quite dead now.  Frow um
into de ribber."

"Oh no!  I want my father to see it, and Morgan."

"We go an' fess um den."

"No, no.  You must carry it home."

"No, too heaby, Mass' George, and um begin to 'tink."

I laughed, for Pomp was beginning to show his natural disinclination for
work, though certainly the hideous head did send forth an unpleasant,
musky odour.  So long as an exciting task was on hand which interested
him, Pomp would work most industriously; but over anything plodding and
approaching drudgery he was laziness itself.

"I frow um in de ribber, or you frow um in, Mass' George."

"Neither," I said.  "It must be carried home."

"What, dat great heaby head?"

"Yes."

"What, all de way fro' de tree?"

"Yes."

"No, no, Mass' George, um too heaby.  Dat kill a poor nigger all dead,
oh!"

"Nonsense!  It is not so heavy as all that."

"Oh, yes; um drefful heaby.  Frow um in."

"But I want my father to see it, and Morgan would like to."

"Eh?  I see."

He ducked down quickly, and lifted the head on to an old stump.  Then,
breaking off a bough of dead wood, he chopped a short piece off and
propped open the huge jaws.

"Dah!" he exclaimed, gleefully.  "Dat make um laugh, and de fly come in
an' out, an' um no snap at um no more."

"But don't I tell you that I want them to see it at home.  Sarah would
like to see it too."

"Eh?  Oh, no, Mass' George," cried Pomp, excitedly, and beginning to
imitate poor Sarah's sharp acid way so accurately that I roared with
laughter.  For every tone of her voice--every gesticulation--was exactly
true to nature.

"`What!'" he cried; "`what you mean, you nast' black young rascal, bring
dat ting in my clean kitchun?  I get hold ob you, I box your ears.  How
dah you--how dah you!  Take um away--take um away!'  Dat what Misses
Sarah say."

"But we will not take it into her clean kitchen, Pomp.  We'll put it on
that pine-stump at the bottom of the garden."

"Oh, no, Mass' George.  Sun shine on um, and de fly come on.  Make um
'mell horrid."

"Oh, that will soon go off," I said.  "Come, let's get back.  Wait till
I've loaded again though.  Here, give me the powder and a bullet.  We
might see something else."

"Eh?"

"I said give me the powder and a bullet.  Halloa!  Where's the
ammunition?"

"Eh?  Now where I put dat amnisham, Mass' George?  I dunno."

"Why, you must have laid it down on the ground when we came after the
alligator."

"Sure I did, Mass' George.  Ah, you are clebber boy.  Come 'long, we
find um we go back."

"No, no, stop.  I want that head carried home."

"But um so heaby, Mass' George, and poor Pomp drefful hot an' tire."

"Dreadful lazy you mean," I cried, angrily.  "Come, sir."

"Now, Mass' George cross again, and goin' break poor lil nigger heart,"
he whimpered.

"Stuff!  Sham!  Lay hold of that head."

"Break um back den, carry dat great heaby thing."

"It will not.  You didn't think it heavy when you dragged it along with
the axe."

"Head all hot den, Mass' George; got cold now."

"Why, you lazy, cunning young rascal!"  I cried; "if you don't pick that
head up directly, and bring it along!"

"Ugh!" ejaculated Pomp, with a shudder; "um so dreffel ugly, Pomp
frighten to deff."

I could not help laughing heartily at his faces, and the excuses he kept
inventing, and he went on--

"Pomp wouldn't mind a bit if de head dry, but um so dreffel wet an'
nasty.  An' you come close here, Mass' George, an' 'mell um.  Ugh!"

He pinched his nose between his fingers, and turned his back on the
monster.

"Now, no nonsense, sir," I said, severely.  "I will have that carried
home."

"For de massa see um, an' Mass' Morgan?"

"Yes," I said.

"Oh!" exclaimed the boy, in a tone which suggested that he at last
understood me; "for de massa and Mass' Morgan see um.  I run home fess
um here."

He was off like a shot, but my voice checked him.

"Stop, sir."

"You call, Mass' George?"

"Come here, you young rascal!"

"Come dah, Mass' George?  No fess um here?" he said, coming slowly
cringing up.

"No, sir.  Now then, no nonsense; take hold of that head."

Pomp stuck the handle of the axe into the band of his short cotton
drawers, wiped a tear out of each eye, and took the hideous great head
off the stump, looking at me reproachfully, as he bent with its weight.

"Is it very heavy?"  I said.

"Kill poor boy carry um all dat way, Mass' George."

I stood the gun up against the nearest tree, and went to him and lifted
the head, to find that it really was a pretty good weight.

"Yes," I said, replacing it on the stump; "it is heavy, Pomp."

"Den I go fess Mass' Bruton here," he cried, joyfully.

"No.  Give me that axe."

He took the little chopper out of his belt, and slowly and shrinkingly
gave me the handle; then dropped on his knees, crossed his hands on his
breast, and lowered his head.

"Don' kill um dis time, Mass' George.  Pomp berry sorry such a lazy
rascal."

"Get up, and don't to stupid," I said, roughly.  "Who's going to kill
you?" and looking round, I had soon found and cut down a stout young
sapling, which I trimmed into a pole, Pomp watching me the while with a
piteous expression on his countenance.

"There," I said, when I had done, and provided myself with a stout pole
about ten feet long.

"Oh!  Ow!" burst forth Pomp in a terrified howl.

"What's the matter now?"  I cried in astonishment.

"Nebber tink Mass' George such coward."

"Eh?  What do you mean?"

"Lil bit do, Mass' George."

"No, it wouldn't."

"Off!"

"Here, what's the matter?  What do you mean?"  I cried, as he threw
himself down on the moss, and kept on drawing up his legs as if in
agony, and kicking them out again like a frog.

"Nebber tink Mass' George such coward."

"I'm not, sir.  Why?"

"Cut great big 'tick like dat to beat poor lil nigger like Pomp."

"Lil nigger like Pomp!"  I cried, mockingly; "why, you're as big as I
am.  Get up, you great tar-coloured stupid."

"No, no, Mass' George; hit um lyem down, please; not hurt so much."

"Get up!"  I shouted; and I poked him in the ribs with the end of the
pole.

"Ow!  Ow!" yelled Pomp at every touch, and the more he shouted the more
I laughed and stirred him up, till he suddenly sat up, drew his knees to
his chest, put his arms round them, and wrinkling his forehead into
lines, he looked up at me pitifully.

"Arn't done nuff yet, Mass' George?" he whimpered.

"Enough?"  I cried.  "Did you think I cut this great pole to whop you?"

"Yes, Mass' George."

"Why, it was to carry the head on, one at each end."

"Oh!" cried Pomp, jumping up as if made of springs, and showing his
teeth; "I knew dat a hall de time."

"You wicked young story-teller," I cried, raising the pole quarter-staff
fashion, and making an offer at him, when Pomp dropped on his knees
again, and raised his hands for mercy.

"Ah, you deserve it," I said; "telling a fib like that."

"Was dat a fib, Mass' George?"

"Yes; you didn't know it all the time."

"No, Mass' George; not till you tell um.  I tought you cut de big 'tick
to whop poor nigger all black and blue."

"Why, how could I?" and I roared with laughter as I looked at his shiny,
ebony skin.

"Dunno, Mass' George.  Hit berry hard, make um bruisum all ober de body,
same as you say when you tumble down--you say make um all black and
blue."

"There, come along," I said; "let's get the thing home.  Phew!  Look at
the flies already."

"Whish--whoosh--whoosh!" cried Pomp, breaking off a bough and sweeping
it round.  "Nebber mind, Mass' George; fly keep on eat lit bit all de
way home; not hab so much a carry."

"But how are we to manage?  Here, you must find some tough cane to lay
the head on."

"I know now," cried Pomp, taking the pole.

"What are you going to do?"  I said.

"Put um down um troat.  So."

As he spoke, he ran the pole through the open jaws and out at the neck,
so that the head was safely swinging in the middle.

"Dah," he said, "now you carry dat end, I carry dis end.  Dat end nice
an' tin for Mass' George."

"Why, you cunning young rascal," I said, "you want me to carry the dirty
wet end, do you?"

Pomp grinned, and broke off some thick leaves to carefully clean the
sullied end, chuckling merrily the while.

"Um was horrid nassy, Mass' George," he said.  "Now all right."

I took up and shouldered the gun, and then seizing one end of the pole,
we marched triumphantly back with our grisly trophy, accompanied by
quite a cloud of flies which kept up a tremendous humming noise.

I went first, and easily found the spot where the ammunition had been
set down by Pomp in his excitement; and after he had thrown the
pouch-straps over his shoulder and I had decided not to load again, as
we were going straight home, we prepared for a fresh start.

"Mass' George like to come dis end?" said Pomp.

"No," I said; "I'll go first;" and we went on till Pomp began to grunt
and shudder.

"What's the matter?"  I said, looking back.

"Poor Pomp get all de 'mell ob de head dis end."

"All right," I said; "it won't hurt you."

"But um do 'tink horrid, Mass' George."

"We'll carry it the other way, side by side, as soon as we get out of
the trees," I said; and we went on a little further, when the boy
uttered a shout.

"What's the matter now?"  I said.

"De fly, Mass' George."

"Never mind the flies," I said; "they will not hurt you."

"But dey do, Mass' George.  Dey keep tink Pomp am de head, and sit on um
and bite lil bit out ob um arm and neck.  Poor nigger hardly got a bit
ob clothes on."

"And a good job too, Pomp," I cried.  "I wish I hadn't.  Phew!  It is
hot!"

After divers changes about, in which I got my fair share of the
nuisance, we reached the house, to find my father at home; and he,
Morgan, and Hannibal came on to meet our triumphant procession.

"Bravo, George!" said my father; "why, that's quite a patriarch.  How
did you manage to kill him?"

"Mass' George shoot um, and Pomp cut um head off," cried the boy,
proudly.

"Yes," I said; "Pomp found him asleep, and fetched me.  Morgan, I want
it on that stump."

"No, no, sir," said Morgan.  "I'll get the hammer and a big spike-nail,
and drive it through the back of the skin into that big tree at the
bottom."

"Capital!"  I cried.

"But it will be a nuisance," said my father.

"Oh no, sir.  It's full in the hot sun, and the flies will clean it.
Before a week's out it will be dry."

Hannibal fetched the short ladder, and held the head, while Morgan drove
in the nail so that the great head with its propped open jaws hung there
grinning at the bottom of the garden; the skin soon shrinking away so
that the head hung as it were by a skin loop; and before a month was
past it was perfectly inoffensive, and had preserved in drying its
natural appearance in a wonderful way.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Recollections of sunny days in the cotton-fields, with the men and women
cramming the white bursting pods into baskets as they laughed and
chattered together, and every now and then burst into some song or
chorus, their natural light-heartedness making them, if well treated,
forget the bonds from which they suffered.  Of those many days in the
hot glow, where the men were busy with great chopping-knives cutting
down the tall, towering canes ready to be piled high in the mule-carts
and borne off to the crushing-mills.

For as time went on the visit of the slave schooner was repeated again
and again, and the settlers brought more land under cultivation, and the
place grew more busy week by week.

But at home all remained the same, only that by the help of Hannibal our
garden increased in beauty and productiveness to a wonderful extent, and
Pomp and I revelled in the abundance of the fruit.

I used to look at the boy and his father, and wonder how it was possible
for them to have settled down so contentedly.  But they had, and it did
not seem to me that they had a single thought of the past, so light and
easy-going they were.

But I misjudged them, as time proved.

I was merry and lively enough in those days, never happier than when
playing Morgan some trick to arouse his wrath; but I was the perfection
of quietness compared to Pomp, who was more like a monkey in his antics
than a boy; and his father, the morose-looking, gloomy slave that he had
been, seemed to have grown as full of life and fun as his son.

I don't think that there was anything I could have asked that pair that
they would not have done.  If I expressed a wish to have a pair of young
squirrels for pets, they were sure to be obtained, just as the raccoon
was, and the woodchuck.  If I wished to fish, the baits were ready and
the boat cleaned out; while if I told Hannibal I wanted him to come and
row for me, his black face shone with pleasure, and he would toil on in
the hot sun, hour after hour, with the oars, evidently sharing my
delight whenever I caught a fish.

I remember one day when my father had gone across to the settlement on
some business, taking Morgan with him--I think it was to see and select
from some fruit-trees and seeds which had been brought over from the old
country--that I sat in our room, busy over the study which I had
promised to have done by the time of my father's return.

As I sat there I glanced out of the window from time to time to see
Hannibal toiling away with his hoe, in a great perspiration which
glistened in the sun, but evidently supremely happy, as he chattered
away to Pomp, who was also supposed to be working hard, but only at
preserving his position as he squatted on the top of a post with his
arms about his knees, and his hoe laid across his head, perfectly
balanced.

I laughed to myself, and then went on with my work, a piece of Latin
translation, for my father used to say, "There is nothing to prevent you
being a gentleman, my boy, even if we do live out in the wilds."

All at once I heard Sarah's quick step, as she went out of the place,
and directly after she was busy over something.

Carelessly enough I looked up, and saw that she was beating and brushing
my father's uniform, previous to hanging it over a rail, so as to guard
it from decay by exposure to the sun.

I sat looking at the bright scarlet and gold lace, and saw that she had
brought out the cap too.  Then I went on with my work again, finished
it, and with a sigh of satisfaction put all away, thinking that I would
go down to the pool and have a bathe.

The idea seemed good, and I stepped out, thinking what a patient,
industrious, careful woman Sarah was, and seeing that she must have
fetched is the uniform again, and put it away.

I went through the fence into the garden, meaning to make Pomp go with
me, but he was no longer perched on the stump, one of the many left when
the garden was made; and on looking round for Hannibal to ask where the
boy had gone, I found he too had left his work.

"Hasn't finished," I said to myself, for the man's hoe was leaning
against the tree.

Carelessly enough, I strolled on down to the bottom of the garden,
looking at the alligator's great grinning jaws as I went by, and out at
the end, to see if the pair were in the little hut that had been built
for their use, and a laugh which I heard as I drew nearer told me that I
was right as far as Hannibal was concerned, while a few excited words
which I could not make out proved that Pomp was there as well.

"What are they doing?"  I thought to myself; and with the idea of giving
them a surprise, I did not go up to the door, but turned off, walked
round to the back, and parting the trees by whose leaves the place was
shadowed, I reached the little square window at the rear of the house,
and stood looking in, hardly knowing which to do--be furiously angry, or
burst out laughing.

For the moment I did neither, but stood gazing in unseen.  There to my
left was Pomp, both his eyes twinkling with delight, squatting on the
floor, and holding his knees, his favourite attitude, while his thick
lips were drawn back from his milky-white teeth, from between which came
a low, half-hissing, half-humming noise evidently indicative of his
satisfaction, and in its way resembling the purring of a cat.

To my right, slowly walking up and down, with a grave display of dignity
that was most ludicrous, was Hannibal, his head erect, eyes very wide
open, and arms held firmly to his sides, a position that he must have
imitated from seeing some of the drilling preparations going on at the
settlement, and kept up ever since the scare produced by the coming of
the Indians and the Spaniards.

The reason for this attitudinising and parading was plain the moment I
appeared at the window and grasped the situation; for it was clear
enough--Pomp had seen the gay uniform airing upon the rail, had annexed
it, and carried it off to the hut, probably with his father as an
abettor, in what could only have been meant for a loan; and he had
followed the boy in, and possibly with his assistance put on the
clothes, which fitted him fairly well; but his appearance was not
perfect.

For there over the white-faced scarlet coat was the shiny black face,
surmounted by the military cap worn wrong way foremost, while the
breeches were unbuttoned at the knee, and the leggings were not there,
only Hannibal's black legs, and below them his dusty toes, which spread
out far from each other, and worked about in a way most absurd.

But the most absurd thing of all was the aspect of satisfied dignity in
the man's countenance.  It was as if he were supremely happy and
contented with himself, the clothes having evidently raised him
enormously in his own estimation.

"Now what shall I do?"  I thought; "go in and scold them both, or wait
and see if they put the things back?"

I was still hesitating and thinking how angry my father would be, when I
found suddenly that there would be no need for me to speak and upset the
equanimity of the happy pair, for all at once I heard a loud exclamation
from the direction of the house, where Sarah had just come out to fetch
in the uniform; and directly after, she jumped at the right conclusion,
and made the place echo with the cry of "Pompey!"

The effect was wondrous.

The boy seemed for the moment turned to stone; his jaw fell, and he
stared at his father, whose face seemed to grow ashy, and from whose
aspect all the dignity had vanished in an instant.

Then, quick as some wild animal, Pomp sprang at his father, the shock
with which he struck him in the chest causing the hat to fall off back
on to the floor as he tore at the buttons to get the coat off.

Hannibal, with his fingers shaking and twitching, helped all he could,
and hindered more, while I stood smothering my laughter and waiting to
see the end of the comedy.

Those garments were dragged off doubtlessly much more quickly than they
were put on, and as soon as they were huddled together, father and son
stood listening to Sarah's voice, their eyes starting, and the
perspiration standing in great drops upon their faces.

"What will they do next?"  I said to myself.

Apparently they had no plans, for Hannibal looked reproachfully at his
son and shook his head at him, his lips moving, and in a low, husky
voice he said--

"Whatebber will I do!"

A way out of the difficulty seemed to come to the younger black, for he
suddenly darted at the hat, picked it up, and dabbed it down on the
bundle of white and scarlet clothes.  Then, whispering a few words to
his father--who seemed to be hanging back but to give way at last--the
boy ran to the door, dropped down on all fours so as to be hidden by the
trees from the house, and glided off almost as rapidly as some
four-legged animal.

"The young coward, to run away like that," I said to myself, as another
loud cry of "Pompey, Pompey!  Where are you?" came from the front of the
house.

"Poor old Hannibal!"  I thought to myself, as I saw the utterly cowed
object before me, so strangely contrasted with the dignified being a
short time back in uniform, that I could hardly restrain my merriment.

But I did not laugh out, for I was sorry for the poor fellow, and tried
to think of some way of extricating him from his difficulty, as he stood
there with the uniform huddled up in his arms.

Somehow no idea came, only a feeling of anger against the cowardly young
scoundrel of a boy, who had left his father in the lurch.

"If it was only he," I said to myself, "I'd glory in seeing old Sarah
pull his ears, a mischievous young dog!"

But there was Hannibal before me, and whenever I looked in the poor
fellow's face I never could help a feeling of respectful liking for the
unhappy slave whom I had seen lying half dead upon the bank of the
stream when we first brought him ashore.

Then with Sarah's voice still heard at intervals raging and storming, I
strove to think of a plan to get the poor fellow out of his hobble,
while at the same time, in a confused way, the scene on the bank kept
coming back, and with it thoughts of how the boy had been ready to fight
for his father then, while now he had taken to his heels and fled.

"I don't know what to do," I said at last to myself, as I felt that our
civilising had spoiled Pomp.  "To go and talk to her, and tell her not
to make a fuss."

"Pompey!  Pompey!" rang out from close by now, and Hannibal let fall the
uniform, and clasped his hands.

It was evident that Sarah was coming to see if the boy was in the hut,
and there was nothing for it but to bear the blame.

"Pompey!  Do you hear me?"

"A--y--ou," came from right the other side of the house.  "You call a
me, missie Sarah?"

"Oh, there you are, are you?" she cried; and as I peeped through the
trees, I saw her turn sharply round and hurry back, talking volubly the
while.  Then she called again--

"Pompey!"

"Yes, missie."

"Come here, sir."

"You call a me, missie?"

"Yes, you know I called you.  Where are you?"

"Hey--oh--hi--ho!  Hey oh--hi oh!  Ally olly hi--oh--olly olly hi!" came
in musical tones from the other side of the house; and as I peeped once
more through the windows I saw Hannibal's bent back, as he stooped and
picked up the clothes, brushed off some dust, and then with them held
all ready and his face working with excitement, he crept to the door.

"Pompey, do you hear me?" cried Sarah, who was gone up now to the house.

"Hey--oh--hi--oh!  Yes, missie, you call a me?" came from a little
farther away.

"Do you hear what I say, sir?"

"Yes, missie."

"Then come here directly."

"Ole massa go along, an' Massa George a 'top alonga."

"Pompey!"

"Yes, missie; you call a me?"

"Oh!" cried Sarah, fiercely, "just wait till I get hold of you, sir;"
and she ran off down the path at the other side of the house, shouting
for the boy, who kept on answering, and, as I realised now, purposely
leading her farther and farther away to give his father time.

For, stooping low down, and with wonderful speed and agility, Hannibal,
who had crept out of the hut, suddenly darted into and down the garden,
and as I followed, keeping well hidden among the trees, I saw him reach
the front of the house, shake out the uniform, hang coat and breeches on
the rail, stick the cap on the end, and dart off away in another
direction, so to reach the path leading into the forest on the way to
the stream.

I ached with my efforts to keep down my laughter, as I saw him scud off,
glad at heart though, all the same, for, poor fellow, he had escaped.
Then all at once my admiration for Pomp increased to a wonderful degree,
for I heard a howl from the other side of the house, the sound of blows,
heavy ones too; and as Pomp shrieked and howled, it was evident that
Sarah was cuffing him tremendously.

Her voice grew louder every moment, so did Pomp's cries and
protestations, till I could hear every word from my hiding-place,
thoroughly enjoying of course the punishment that had fallen on the boy,
while delighted by his ruse to get the clothes back and save his father.

"Oh don't, missie; don't whop a poor lil nigger," came loudly.

"You mischievous--(_bang_!)--young--(_bang_!)--Where are those clothes?"

"No, haven't got 'em, missie; no, haven't got 'em.  Oh! _oh_!  Oh!"

"Don't tell me your wicked stories, sir.  Tell me this moment, or master
shall know, and you shall be flogged.  You have stolen them away."

"No, no, missie, Pompey nebber 'teal, no, nebber; wouldn't 'teal
notin'."

"You--(_bang_!)--have taken--(_bang_!)--those clothes away.  Where are
they, sir?"

"Oh, don't whip lil nigger, missie.  No got no clothes on'y lil cotton
drawers, an' lil shirtums," howled Pomp, as he was dragged into sight
now, Sarah holding on tightly by one of his ears.

"And I say you have got them, sir.  Nobody else could have taken them,"
cried Sarah.  "You wicked black magpie, you!  Show me this instant where
you have put them, or I don't know what I won't do."

I knew what was coming; it was all plain enough.  But no, not quite all;
but I did see the _denouement_ to some extent, for, as Sarah dragged the
boy forward, I could contain myself no longer.

"Oh don't, missie!" howled the young dog.

"Oh, but I will," cried Sarah.  "I put poor master's uniform on that
rail to air, and--_Well_!"

"Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!"

I never laughed louder in my life, as I burst forth into quite a yell,
for there stood poor Sarah, with her mouth wide open, staring at the
uniform hanging on the rail, and then at Pomp, who looked up at her with
his face screwed up in mock agony, but his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Was dem a clothes you gone lose, missie?" he said, innocently; and
Sarah panted and looked is my direction.  "Dat Massa George brass out
alarfin for you whip poor lil nigger nuffin tall."

"Oh--oh--oh!" burst forth Sarah at last, hysterically; "it's a shame--a
cruel shame, Master George, to play me such a good-for-nothing trick."

I ceased laughing directly, and my mouth opened now with astonishment at
the turn things had taken.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir," cried Sarah; "and here have
I been ill-using this poor boy because--Oh, Pompey, Pompey, Pompey!"

She caught him in her arms and gave him a motherly hug, while I stood
amongst the trees speechless.

"Missie cry her eyes cos she whip Pompey?"

"Yes, my poor boy," cried Sarah.  "But his father shall know.  Ah, you
may well stop in hiding, sir; it's a shame."  Then, ever so much louder,
"It's a shame!"

"Don't 'cold Massa George, missie," said Pompey.  "Him nebber do
nuffin."

"Do nothing, indeed!" cried Sarah.  "You come along in with me, and I'm
very, very sorry I whipped you."

"Pompey done mind, missie," said the boy, showing his teeth.

"There, you're a very good, forgiving boy," said Sarah, as she caught up
the uniform to take it in; "and I wish I could forgive myself."

Then, catching Pomp by the arm, she led him into the house, from which
he soon after returned with a corn-cake and half a pot of prime jam of
Sarah's own make.

And there I stood all the time thinking seriously among the trees, and
unable to make up my mind what to do.  If I did not speak, I should bear
the blame, and Sarah would remain angry with me.  If I told all, poor
Hannibal, who had been led into the indulgence in a bit of vanity by his
boy, would be in disgrace, and I knew that the poor fellow would feel it
keenly.  If I did not tell all, that young rascal would triumph in his
cunning and deceit, and enjoy letting me have the credit of playing the
trick on Sarah.

"I will tell," I said, sharply, as I saw Pomp come out licking his thick
lips, and enjoying the jam.

Then I thought of how patiently he had borne Sarah's blows, so as to
save his father from getting into disgrace, and that disarmed me again;
so that my mind see-sawed about in the most tiresome way, till I gave up
in despair, coming to no conclusion, and leaving the matter to settle
itself, but determined to give Master Pomp a good thrashing soon, so as
to get some satisfaction out of the affair.

"Pomp," I said, half aloud, "Pomp.  Yes, I called him Pomp; and after
what I saw in the hut I ought to call old Hannibal Vanity.  So I will--
Pomp and Vanity.  I wish I could make up my mind what to do."

I had something else to think of the next moment, for I heard a shout,
and Hannibal himself came running along the path from the stream.

"Hi--hi--Mass' George!" he shouted, breathlessly.

"What's the matter?"  I said, running towards the house to get a gun.
"Here, quick, come in here."

I strained my eyes as I ran, expecting to see Indians in pursuit of him,
but he alone was visible, and he pointed, breathless and panting, in the
direction from which he came.

"What is it?"  I cried.  "What's the matter?"

The answer came in a peculiar, low, hissing, rushing sound, as if a
storm were coming through the forest.  It ceased directly, and died away
in a low, dull roar.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"Here, what's the matter?"  I cried; and at that moment Sarah came
running out again, looking inquiringly from one to the other.

"What was that noise?" she said.

"De ribber--de ribber," panted Hannibal.  Then he tried to say more, but
he was so excited that his command of English failed him, and he turned
to Pomp, who had just come back from the hut, and said something to him
volubly in his own tongue.  Pomp's mouth opened wide, and he stared
wildly at his father.  Then turning to me, he caught hold of my arm.

"Come, get up the tree, Mass' George.  Pull missie up the tree."

"What for?  What's the matter?"  I said, as the dull roaring seemed to
be coming back.

"Ribber run all ober; water take away de boat, and all gone."

"River running over?  What do you mean--a flood?"

"Yes, dat's flood.  Come, get up a tree."

"Oh, nonsense!  Come and see."

"No, no, Mass' George, mustn't go," cried Pomp, seizing my arm, and I
was making for the path leading to the stream.  "Hark!  Hear dat?"

I certainly did hear a low, ominous roar rising and falling in the air,
but it sounded like distant thunder dying away.  I began to be startled
now, for the look of dread in Hannibal's features was not without its
effect upon me.  Just then Pomp began to drag Sarah toward the biggest
cypress about the place, chattering to her excitedly the while.

"No, no, I can't; my good boy, no," she cried.  "What!  Get up the tree?
Oh, nonsense!  Here, Master George, my dear boy, what does it all
mean?"

"I don't know.  I'm as puzzled as you are, but it means that we're going
to have a flood.  I wish my father was here."

"Look here, Pomp," I said; "we need not climb a tree; it's a great
chance if the water reaches as high as the garden;" and I looked round,
thinking how wise my father had been to select this spot, which was the
only rising bit of ground near, though he had not chosen it on account
of fears of flood, but so as to be well above the swamp damp and mists.

Hannibal said something excitedly to his son.

"Yes; climb up a tree, Mass' George.  Big water come roll down, wash um
all away.  Ah!  Make um hase, Mass' George."  He seized me by the arm,
and pushed me toward the tree, which was about a hundred feet away down
the slope at the back, but almost instantaneously a wave of water came
washing and sighing through the forest slowly but surely, and lapped
onward as it swept out from the forest line at a rate which, deliberate
as it seemed, was sufficient for it to reach the big cypress before we
could; and I stopped short appalled and looked round for a place of
refuge.

The water came on, and in another minute would have been up to where we
stood, but it shrank back again toward the forest, and I felt that the
danger was over, when to my great delight I heard a shout, the splashing
of some one running through water, and my father came into sight to run
up the slope to the place where we stood, closely followed by Morgan,
and both at first too much exhausted to speak.

"Thank God!" he cried at last.  "Don't speak.  Flood.  The settlement
deep in water.  Rising fast.  The boat?"

"Wash away, massa," cried Pomp.

"Ah!" cried my father, despairingly.  "Quick, all of you.  It is coming
now."

As he spoke I heard the deep roar increasing, and after a glance round,
my father pointed to the tree.

"We must get up into that.  No: too late."

For the flood came in a great, smooth, swelling wave out from the edge
of the forest, and then glided toward us, rising rapidly up the slope.

"I'm with you," cried my father, and catching Sarah by the hand, he
dragged her into the house, seized the rough ladder, and made her climb
up silent and trembling into the loft, where, before we could join her,
the water was over the doorsteps and had risen to our knees.

But the moment Sarah was in the loft, my father ordered Pomp and me to
follow, then Hannibal and Morgan, coming up last himself, by which time
the water was up to his waist.

As soon as he was in the little low loft, my father forced out the
wooden bars across one of the windows and looked out, to take in the
extent of our danger, and I pressed close to his side.

"Is there any danger?"  I said, rather huskily.

"I hope not, my boy," he said, sadly.  "The question is whether the
house will be swept right away.  Everything depends upon whether it
comes with a fierce rash, or rises slowly."

I looked round and could see that the flood kept coming in little swells
or waves from the edge of the forest, the water rushing out from among
the tall trunks, and then seeming to undulate gently toward the house.
The garden was covered deeply, and where I had been accustomed to look
at the pleasant sand-walks, and the young fruit-trees, all was now
water, out of which rose the tops of trees here and there.

The thatched roof of the blacks' hut was just visible as a grey point
seen amongst the tree-tops, and all at once I saw it rise up high out of
the water and then settle down again and float slowly away.

At that moment my father uttered a low sigh, and then there was another
loud dull roar, and a great wave came rolling out of the edge of the
forest, swelling onward, the tops of the trees bending towards us as it
came on and on slowly, but with a force that bore all before it, and I
felt my father's hand clasp mine in his.

"Quick!" he whispered; "climb out, and get on the ridge of the roof."

"Are you coming too, father?"  I said.

"Out, quick!" he answered, but before I was clear of the window, he had
hold of me and half drew me back, holding to me tightly, and not without
need, for there was a dull thud, the house quivered from the tremendous
blow, and I felt the water leap over me, deluging me from head to foot,
and making me gasp for breath as I struggled to get back.

"Quiet!" said my father, sternly, and I remained still, expecting to
feel the house swept away, to go floating like the roof of the hut,
right away.

But it stood firm, the wave gliding off, but leaving the water now
rippling up between the boards, telling that the lower floor was filled,
and the flood rising through the ceiling.

An anxious ten minutes ensued, during which wave after wave came rolling
out of the forest, each to deliver a heavy blow at our house, making the
roof crack, but never yield, and with the last came so great an influx
of water that our position rapidly began to grow untenable.

My father made no effort to induce me to climb up after the first wave
struck us, till the water had risen well up into the loft, when he said
quietly--

"Up with you, Morgan, on to the ridge."

"Begging your pardon, sir, I--"

"Silence, sir!  Out and up with you, and be ready to take your wife's
hands."

It was the officer spoke then, and Morgan crept out through the rough
dormer window, and directly after shouted briefly--

"Ready."

"Now, Sarah, my good woman, be brave and firm; creep out here," said my
father.  "Don't think about the water, and grasp your husband's hands at
once."

I heard Sarah give a deep sigh, and she caught at and pressed my
shoulder as she passed; then with an activity I should not have expected
of her, she crept out of the window, my father holding her dress
tightly; there was a loud scrambling sound heard above the hissing and
roaring of the water, and my father spoke again.

"Safe!" he muttered.  Then aloud, "Now, boys--both of you--up, and on to
the ridge."

"You first, Pomp," I said; and the boy scrambled out, and I followed,
the task being, of course, mere play to us as we crept up the
well-timbered roof, and got outside of the ridge-pole.

We had not been there a minute before Hannibal and my father were beside
us, and the waste of water all around.

"Not much too soon," said my father, cheerfully.  "Do you see, George?"

"Yes, father," I said, feeling rather white, or as I suppose any one
would feel if he were white, for the water was level now with the bottom
of the window; "will it rise higher?"

"I am afraid so," he said, gravely, as he looked sharply round at the
various trees standing out of the water.  "Yes," he continued, with the
firmness of one who has made his decision; "Morgan, you swim well, and
the current sets in the right direction.  If the house gives way--"

"Oh, but it won't, sir; we made it too strong for that."

"Then if the water compels us to leave here, do you think you can
support your wife to that tree, if I swim beside and help you?"

"I will support her there, sir," said Morgan, firmly.

"That's right.  Hannibal, you can easily reach there?"

"Yes, sah."

"And you boys can, of course.  We may have to take to that tree, for I
think it will stand."

We all declared our ability to reach the new refuge, and Pomp gave me a
nod and a smile, for it was the tree we had before meant to reach; and
then we sat there awe-struck, and wondering whether the house would give
way, and be swept from its position.

But now no fresh waves came rolling out of the forest, only a current
swept gently past, and after a long silence my father said--

"Yes, that must be it.  A terrible series of storms must have been
occurring, hundreds, perhaps a thousand miles away up in the highlands
and mountains, gathering force, till a flood has swept down to here like
a series of huge waves passing down the rivers, and flooding all their
banks.  The first violence has passed, and I think we may hope that the
waters will go down as rapidly as they rose."

But his words did not seem likely to prove correct, for as we sat there,
with evening creeping on, it was plain to see that the water was still
rising--very slowly, but creeping steadily on.  At first it was only
level with the dormer window; then by slow degrees it was half way up;
and as darkness was coming on, the top of the window was nearly reached.

The roof was high in pitch, so that we were well out of the reach of the
cold current as yet; but calculating by the rate of advance, it was
plain that before many hours had passed the water would have risen to
us; and the question my father had to ask us all was, whether we should
stay there in the hope that at any time the highest point of the flood
might have been reached, or try and swim at once to the great cypress,
and take refuge among its boughs.

"What do you say, Morgan?" said my father at last.  "Shall we go or
stay?"

"Don't know what to say, sir.  We are dry now, but if we swim to the
tree we shall all be drenched, except these two blacks, and they can
easily wring out their things.  Then it means sitting in our wet clothes
half perished through the night.  I don't so much mind, but it would be
terrible for her."

"Don't study me, sir, please," said Sarah, firmly.  "Do what is for the
best."

"I think what you say is right, Morgan.  We can but swim to the tree
when the water rises too high for us to stay here longer."

"But you don't really think it'll get any higher, sir, do you?"

"I am afraid to say what I think," replied my father.  "We are in a vast
continent whose rivers are enormous.  You see the water is still
rising."

"Oh yes, sir, it's still rising," grumbled Morgan; "but I wish it would
keep still.  Going to stop or go, sir?  If we go it had better be at
once."

"We will stay," said my father; and as terrible a vigil as ever poor
creatures kept commenced.

Fortunately for us the night was glorious, and as the last gleam of
daylight passed away, the great stars came out rapidly, till the
darkened heavens were one blaze of splendour, while the scene was made
more grand by the glittering being reflected from the calm surface of
the waters all around, till we seemed to be sitting there in the midst
of a sea of gold, with blackened figures standing up dotted here and
there, and beyond them the dark line of the forest.

The silence for a time was awful, for the current now ran very slowly,
and the rise of the water was so insidious that it could hardly be
perceived.

From time to time my father tried to raise our spirits by speaking
hopefully and prayerfully of our position, but it was hard work to raise
the spirits of poor creatures in so perilous a strait, and after a time
he became silent, and we all sat wondering, and bending down to feel if
the water was still rising.

Then all at once a curious thrill of horror ran through me, for the
hideous bellow of an alligator was heard, and Morgan's hand went
involuntarily to his pocket.

"Got knives, everybody?" he said.  "Don't want them cowardly beasts to
tackle us now."

"It is hardly likely," said my father, but at that moment as he spoke
Pomp touched my arm.

"Dah 'gator!" he said, pointing.

I could see nothing, only that there was a broken lustre of the stars
reflected on the water; and if it was one of the monsters it slowly
glided away.

Then it began to grow colder and colder, and as I sat and gazed before
me, the dark trees standing above the flood grew misty, and a pleasant
sensation was stealing over me, when I felt my arm grasped tightly, and
I gave quite a jump.

"No, no, my boy!" said my father, sternly.  "You must not give way to
that."

"I--I--" I faltered.

"You were dropping off to sleep," said my father, firmly.  "You must
master the desire.  Hannibal, take care that Pomp does not go to sleep."

"Him sleep long time, sah," said the black.  "Wake um up?"

"No; let him sleep; only keep watch over him, or he may slide into the
water."

There was silence again, only broken by a low sigh or two from Sarah, to
whom Morgan muttered something again and again as the time crawled
slowly on and the waters still rose higher and higher toward our feet.

Never did the night seem so long before, and the only relief I had in my
wearisome position was derived from the efforts I had to make from time
to time to master the terrible feeling of drowsiness which would keep
coming on.

Every now and then there was a little buzz of conversation, and I made
out that my father asked every one's opinion, and made all try to make
out how much higher the water had risen, so as to excite their interest,
though it was all plain enough.

And so the night wore on, with the flood gliding up and up, and strange
splashings and bellowings heard from time to time, now far off, now
nearer, and every eye was strained to see if the creatures that made
these noises were appearing.

Then all was silent again, and we waited, with the water still rising.

All at once I caught at my father's arm.

"What's that?"  I whispered, in awe-stricken tones, for there was a
curious quivering thrill in the timbers of the house, and it felt to me
as if it was at last yielding to the presence of the water, and
preparing to break up and float away.