It was as my father had hoped; the flood was running out with the tide; and as the cause was over we had every prospect of being set at liberty before many hours had passed.

It was the apparent certainty of this hope which enabled us to bear patiently the rest of our imprisonment, and the pangs of hunger. For night came with the water still falling; but the fact was plainly before us—we should have to pass one night in the tree.

I looked forward to the long, dreary hours with horror, but after getting astride of one branch, and putting my arms round another, feeling half ready to groan with misery, the present dropped away all at once, and I was conscious of nothing till the sun was brightly shining again, when I awoke to find that my wrists were tightly bound together on the other side of the great bough I had embraced; and on recovering my senses sufficiently to look down, I saw that the water had not all drained away, there being several feet in the lower part of the clearings, but the house was so nearly standing out clear that there could not have been more than a couple of feet in depth on the floor.

Morgan and Hannibal were already down, wading breast-high towards the house; and as my father set free my hands, we prepared to follow.

It was no easy task, for the branches were far apart, and covered with slimy mud, but we descended cautiously, promising to come back with ropes to lower poor Sarah and Pomp.

The latter looked gloomy and discontented on being told that he was to stay and keep Sarah company; but he proceeded to walk along to her as we lowered ourselves down, and then contrived to be first, for his bare feet slipped on the muddy bough, and he went headlong down splash into five feet of water and mud, to rise again looking the most pitiable object imaginable.

"Pomp come up again?" he asked, dolefully.

"No; go and have a good wash," said my father, and as the boy went off swimming and wading, we two descended into the thin mud and water, and made our way toward the house.

I looked up at my father to see what he would say to the desolation, as I saw the change that had taken place in so short a time, and then, miserably weak and half-hysterical as I was—perhaps that was the cause—I burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. For Pomp had come close up behind us, after an expedition to the hut that had been made for his home, and his sharp voice rose suddenly just in the midst of our sad thoughts, with—

"Oh! Here a mess!"

Even my father could not help laughing as he looked at the boy.

But there was nothing humorous in the scene to Pomp, who looked up at my father with his brow knit, and continued—

"Place all gone—wash away, and can't find my tick."

"The hut washed away?" asked my father.

"Iss; all agone."

"Never mind! We must build another. Well, Morgan, can you find anything to eat?"

For Morgan had just waded out of the house again with a basket in his hand, and he hastened to open it and produce a couple of roast fowls and a couple of loaves of bread, the latter all swollen up into a great sop, while the former were covered with a thin coating of mud.

"Quick!" said my father, seizing one of the fowls and cutting it in two; "get a rope from the shed, and the little ladder. Take this to your wife at once. No; stop a minute. Here, you go, George; there is some wine in the cupboard."

I went splashing through the door, and fetched the bottle, for I knew exactly where it stood; and on my return this was given to Morgan, who was sent at once to the tree, while we four stood there in the water eating the remains of the fowls ravenously, both Hannibal and Pomp evidently enjoying the well-soaked bread, which was not bad to one so hungry as I, after I had cut away the muddy outside.

"Yes," said my father, smiling at Pomp, after we had relieved the terrible cravings of hunger from which we had suffered; "it is a mess. But look, George, the water is still sinking fast."

That was plain enough to see now, and as it went lower and lower, the damage done, though of course great, was not what might have been expected. We had been saved from utter destruction by the fact that only a moderate-sized clearing had been made in the virgin forest, whose mighty trunks had formed a natural fence round our house, and checked the rush of the flood, which, instead of reaching us in an overwhelming wave, had been broken up, and its force destroyed before it could reach us.

Even the open fences about the garden had escaped, the water having played freely in and out; and though Hannibal's hut had been lifted up and floated right away, the fence-top was now appearing above the water, and seemed to be quite unharmed.

The water sank so fast now that my father shouted to Morgan to let Sarah stay where she was till there was solid earth for her to descend to, and consequently he came down to see what he could do to help. That amounted to nothing, for until the water had passed away nothing could be done, save splash here and there, looking at the fruit-trees bestrewed with moss and muddy reeds and grass, while Morgan uttered groan after groan, as he at last saw the bushes and the tops of his vegetables appear covered with slime.

"The place is ruined, sir," he groaned. "Whatever is to be done? Go back to the old country?"

"Get to work as soon as the place is dry," replied my father. "A few showers of rain after the sun has dried and cracked the mud will soon wash your garden clean."

Morgan shook his head. "And I don't know what my poor wife will say to her kitchen."

"Ah, now you are touching upon the more serious part, my man," said my father. "Come, Morgan, you and I have got the better of worse troubles than this, so set to work, and by some means contrive to get fires going in each of the rooms."

"With wet wood," said Morgan, grumpily.

"Why, it's only wet outside," I cried. "Here, Pomp, try and find the little chopper. Know where it is?"

"Ise know where chopper, but de hut all gone away."

The wood-shed was standing though, and before very long, with Hannibal's help, a good basketful of dry wood was cut; and after a long struggle and several dryings in the hot sun, the tinder and matches acted, and big fires were blazing in the house, whose floors were now only covered with mud.

Already the thatch and shingle roof had ceased to drip, and was rapidly drying, while by midday Sarah was busy at work with brush and pail cleansing the floors, and keeping the two blacks and myself busy bringing things out to dry, while Morgan was removing mud from the various objects within the house.

The main difficulty we had to encounter was how to find a dry resting-place for the night. Sheets and blankets promised to be quite fit for use by sundown, but the question was where to lay them. Every one naturally objected to the trees, and the ridge of the roof was no more inviting than on the first night. But a little ingenuity soon put all right. Timber was so plentiful with us that poles and planks lay piled up at the back of the house, and after a number of these had been hunted up, from where they had floated among the trees, and laid in the full sunshine, a platform was built up high above the muddy earth, and then another upon which pine boughs were laid, and good, dry resting-places contrived for our weary bones.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

It is needless to relate the shifts and plans adopted to restore the place to its former state, but we were favoured by the weather, a long spell of hot sunshine working wonders, and the rapid drying and the work of many hands soon produced a change. In two days we could go about on dry ground. In four, mud was scaling over everything in cakes, and being cracked into dust it regularly powdered off the trees, and a couple of tremendous tropical showers sufficed to clear off the remainder from twig and leaf, so that what with the rapid vegetation, and the clearing effects of rain and dew, a month had hardly passed before the place began to look very much as it did before the misfortune, Morgan informing me smilingly that the soft mud was as good for the garden as a great dressing of manure.

Our furniture in the house was of the simplest, and though Sarah declared that the place would never be the same again, I very soon began to forget all about our trouble, and was only reminded of it by the wisps of dry grass and muddy, woody twigs that clung here and there among some of the trees.

On one occasion I found Pomp busy with a bucket of water and a brush down at the bottom of the garden, where he was scrubbing away at something black.

"Hallo!" I exclaimed. "What's that?"

"'Gator head, Mass' George. Pomp find um 'tuck in dah 'tween um two trees."

He illustrated his meaning by showing me how the head had been washed from its place, and swept between a couple of tree-stumps, where it had remained covered with mud and rubbish, till it had caught his eye, such a trophy being too valuable to lie there in neglect.

I stopped till he had done, and then, all wet and glistening, the great dried head with its gaping jaws was replaced on the spike-nail Morgan had driven in the tree.

"Dah, you 'top till water come and wash um down again, and den Pomp come and wash um up."

These words of the boy set me thinking; and that night I asked my father about the probabilities of another flood.

"It is impossible to say how long it may be before we have another visitation," he replied. "From what I can gather, it seems that they are so rare that a generation may go by without such a flood occurring, and I hardly like to give up so satisfactory a home on the chance of a fresh one coming during our lives."

"Oh no, father, don't give it up," I said. "Everything at the settlement seems to be straight again."

"They suffered more than we did too," he continued.

"But don't you think some one ought to have come in a boat to help us?"

"Yes, if the poor things had thought of it; but I fully believe that in their trouble and excitement, trying to save life as they were, they did not even give a thought to us."

Then the flood was set aside with the troubles from the Indians and the Spaniards, my father saying quietly enough that people who came out to an entirely new country must do so bearing in mind that they have to take the risks with the pleasures. Some of which Sarah heard, for she took up the subject next time I saw her alone, and she shook her head at me as she said—

"Yes, my dear, there's a lot to put up with for those who come to live in new lands, and a couple more of my chickens gone; but I don't know what you and your poor father would have done if me and Morgan had not made up our minds to come too."

I'm afraid I was playing the impostor a little, for I said to her, "We couldn't have got on at all without you, Sarah;" but all the time I was thinking how much more easily we could have managed during the night of peril if we had not had Sarah with us, and how it was in trying to save her that my father nearly lost his life.

But I did not let her see it, and said quietly—

"Lost two more of the chickens?"

"Yes, my dear; and it seems so strange that the birds that could take such care of themselves all through that dreadful flood should be lost now."

"It does seem strange," I said, as my thoughts went back to the flood, and I recalled how the fowls took refuge in the pine-trees, and kept going higher and higher as the water rose, hopping calmly enough from branch to branch, and roosting high up at the top, to stop picking about till the flood was sinking, and then slowly descend with the falling waters, to find quite a feast in the mud.

"You don't think, do you, that those two blacks, Master George—"

"What, like chickens?"

"Yes, my dear."

"The people up at the settlement say they do, and that they can't keep any fowls at all."

"Then that's it," cried Sarah, triumphantly; "and I was right about that smell a few nights ago."

"What smell?"

"Of something roasting in the lean-to shed where those two sleep."

"Nonsense, Sarah! It was squirrel or something of that kind that they had knocked down and cooked."

"No, my dear; it was exactly like roast chicken, and I'm very much afraid—"

"So am I, Sarah, that you are going to make a mistake. I don't believe either of them would steal. Ah! Here comes Pomp all in a hurry about something.—What is it?"

"Hi! Find um, Mass' George," cried the boy, who was in a high state of excitement.

"Find what?" I cried.

"Oh, yes, Pomp find um; come and see."

"Yes, I'll come," I said. "But, I say, Pomp, there are two chickens gone. Do you know anything about them?"

"Yes. Such big bird come and take um, Mass' George. Big bird fly ober de tree, whish—whoosh! And 'tick um foot into de chickum."

Sarah shook her head in a peculiar severe way; but I guessed that she had the question of the uniform upon her mind, and she held her tongue, while Pomp dragged me off to see his discovery.

He led me into a part of the forest where I had not been since the flood, and there, sure enough, twenty feet above the ground, and preserving its perpendicular position, was the greater part of the hut, Pomp climbing up to it in triumph, and then on to the top, with the result that his weight was just sufficient to dislodge it, and the whole affair came down with a crash, and with the boy seated in the ruins.

"What do dat for?" he cried in a whimpering tone as he sat rubbing himself.

"Do what?" I cried, laughing.

"Pull um down down an' break up. How we get um back now?"

"I didn't touch it."

"Not touch um! How um tumble down den? Oh my leg—my leg!"

"No, no; you're not hurt much, Pomp. There, get up, we can't get the hut back; and you know father said a new and better one was to be built. We'll set this one up here and make a summer-house of it, to come to when I'm shooting."

"Eh! What a summer-house?"

"That will be."

"No; dat hut; massa say dat hut."

"But we'll make it into a summer-house."

Pomp shook his head and looked puzzled.

"Pomp find de hut, and Massa George say um summer-house. 'Pose um find de boat 'ticking in tree, dat be summer-house too?"

"No, no, you old stupid," I cried. "But, I say, Pomp," I continued, as the thought occurred to me that this might be possible, and that the boat had not gone down the stream to the river, and from thence out to sea.

"What Mass' George say?" cried the boy, for I had stopped to think.

"Wait a minute," I cried. Then, after a few moments' thought—

"Why, yes, it is possible; the flood came from the big river, up ours, and the boat must be somewhere in the forest after all."

Pomp shook his head.

"Done know what um mean," he said.

"I mean that perhaps our boat was washed up somewhere."

"Iss, Pomp wash um up two-tree-day 'fore took away wif de mop."

"I mean the flood carried the boat up into the forest among the trees, like it did the hut."

"Mass' George fink so?"

"Yes."

"Come 'long find um."

Willingly enough I started with the boy, but stopped directly, for I remembered that Hannibal had come running up to announce the loss of the boat, and that he might have some recollection of the direction in which it was carried.

"Let's ask your father," I said; and we went to where he was in the garden.

To my great delight, his description tallied with my idea. The boat had been carried up stream, and full of eagerness we set out, but it was too late to do much that day, and we soon returned, after planning to start at daybreak the next morning, Pomp having undertaken to awaken me, while I arranged with Sarah for a basketful of provisions, so that we might be able to spend a good long day.

In the course of the evening I related the finding of the hut to my father, and my hope that the boat might be discovered too, but he shook his head.

"Extremely doubtful, my boy. But wait a bit and then go and search, though, if you like; and even if you do not find it, you will have a glorious ramble along the river-bank."

"Will you come too, father?" I said.

"I should like to, but I have promised for several days to go over to the settlement to meet the General and Colonel Preston. Take Morgan or Hannibal with you, if you like."

"Oh no, father," I said, "Pomp will be guide enough; I believe he often steals off to go long distances into the forest after woodchucks and squirrels."

"You will take a gun, I suppose. Any game will be welcome."

"Yes, father."

"And take care not to get into danger."

"What danger?"

"Snakes and other reptiles may be in abundance."

"I'll take care."

"And for aught we know Indians may be hunting in the neighbourhood."

"Should not we have heard them or seen them, if they were?" I said, for I did not like the idea of giving up my trip.

"Well, perhaps so," said my father. "There, I will not stop you; I only say again, be careful when you do go."

"Can't I go to-morrow?" I said.

"No, I would rather that you did not go right away while I am from home. Wait a few days, and then have your trip."

I said no more, but of course felt disappointed, and a strange temptation came over me next day, on finding how bright it was, to go and explore a little, the more especially that Pomp came up with his face shining and full of excitement.

"Now," he cried, "go and find summer-house."

"No, no," I said; "the boat."

"Mass' George call him summer-house yesterday."

"We'll go soon," I said, "but not for a few days."

"What Mass' George going do, then?"

"Stop about at home and take care of the house."

"Mass' George tink water come 'gain, wash um away?"

"No, no, I hope not," I said, laughing. "But I'm not going far away."

"Mass' George come fish terrapum?"

"No, Pomp, I'm going to stop about here. Perhaps I shall go and have a bathe at the pool by and by, but I'm not sure."

"Pomp go wif Mass' George have 'wim."

"No, no," I said, pettishly, for I was out of temper, hot and disappointed at not being able to go and hunt for the boat. Then I felt annoyed at having to stop at home when my father had gone to the settlement, and somehow that place had never seemed to attract me so much before.

"Father might have taken me," I said to myself, as I thought of how beautiful the sugar-canes must be now, after the soaking and dressing they had had with the mud. Then, too, the Indian corn must be waving gloriously, and I longed to see slaves at work in the cotton-field.

"Father will be seeing all that," I thought, "and it's all nonsense about stopping and taking care of the place. I couldn't do anything if there was a flood, or if the Indians came. I should have liked to go."

All of which was very absurd and stupid, but I have known other boys think and talk in a similar way.

I went to the fence, and stood leaning over it, feeling more out of humour than ever, and I hit viciously at a fly or two which settled upon me.

Pomp was watching me all the time in a half puzzled way, and at last he broke out with—

"Mass' George."

"Don't bother!"

Pomp drew back, took out the knife I had given him, picked up a piece of wood and began to cut it, while I stood kicking at the fence, and watching Morgan and old Vanity, as I mentally called him, busy at work cutting down the former's deadly enemies, the weeds.

"Say, Mass' George."

"Don't bother, I tell you," I cried viciously; and there was another pause, during which Pomp made a low whistling noise, which was not such a very bad imitation of the bobolink.

But Pomp could not be quiet long, and he broke out again with—

"Mass' George."

I turned fiercely round to see that his black face was full of animation, and eyes and lips bright with mischievous glee, all of which annoyed me the more, for what business had he to be happy when I was so disappointed, out of humour, and miserable?

"Be off! Why don't you go to work, sir?"

"Won't Mass' George come in de wood?"

"No. Be off!"

"Pomp come and have a 'wim 'long o' Mass' George?"

"No, you won't. Be off; I don't want you."

The boy looked at me aghast, and his thick lower lip worked.

"Mass' George get tire poor old Pomp?"

"Yes. Be off!"

"Mass' George send poor old Pomp 'way?"

"Yes. Don't bother. Can't you see I don't want you?"

"Wugh!" Pomp threw himself down on his face, and rested his forehead on his crossed arms.

"Don't do that," I said. "Get up, and be off, or I shall kick you."

The boy sprang up with his eyes flashing, but they were full of tears, and this gave me satisfaction, for I was in that absurd state of mind when one likes to make others feel as uncomfortable as oneself.

"Mass' George want poor ole Pomp to go away?"

"Yes," I cried; "and don't be so idiotic, you miserable little nigger, calling yourself 'poor ole Pomp!'"

"Mass' George break poor ole Pomp heart."

"I'll break poor ole Pomp's head if he bothers me any more," I cried, sulkily, as I once more leaned over the fence and began kicking off some of the dry mud which still adhered, though the leafage above it was clear and green.

I heard Pomp draw in his breath hard, and he gave his bare foot a stamp on the ground.

"You want poor ole Pomp go drown self?"

"Yes," I said, sourly.

"Pomp go jump in de ribber."

"Go on then."

"You nebber see poor ole Pomp, nebber no more."

"Don't want to."

"Oh, Mass' George!—oh, Mass' George!"

These words came so piteously that all my ill-humour gave way to pity for the boy, who was as affectionate as he was passionate by nature; but his next words hardened me, and I stood fast, trying to hide my mirth as he broke out in a lachrymose way, pitying himself.

"Poor lil nigger! Oh dear, dear, poor lil black nigger slave! Nobody care dump poor ole Pomp!"

Then there was a long pause.

"You want Pomp go drown self, Mass' George?"

"Yes," I said. "Mind you don't get wet."

"Eh?"

"I say, go and have a good dry drown."

"How you do dat all?"

"I don't know. Be off."

"Poor ole Pomp! De 'gators eat um all up like lil yam."

"Ha—ha—ha—ha—ha!" I burst out, for I could contain myself no longer. The comparison to the "lil yam" was too much for me, and as I faced round, good-humoured once more, and ready to go and bathe or do anything with the boy who was my only companion, he showed his teeth at me fiercely, made a run, jumped over the fence into the garden, and I saw him dash down the middle path toward the forest as hard as he could go.

I stood looking in the direction he had taken for a minute or two, and felt disposed to go after him; but I had seen him get into a temper before, and get out of it again, and I knew that next time we met all this would have passed away from both of us like a cloud.

"No, I won't go after him," I said to myself; "it will make him vain and conceited, and he's bad enough as it is. Poor ole Pomp! Poor lil nigger! What a rum fellow he can be when he likes!"

This little episode had quite carried off the sour feeling from which I had suffered, and I began to look about me, enjoying the beauty of the morning, forgetting all about Pomp, who had, no doubt, I thought, found out a nice sunny spot and gone off to sleep.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

No one would have thought there had been a flood to have seen the garden and plantation so soon after the waters had gone down; for where the slimy mud had lain in pools, it had cracked all over till it was creased and marked like an alligator's back, through which cracks the tender green growth soon thrust itself, to spring up at a wondrous rate, as if glad to be fertilised by the soft alluvial soil.

Wherever the mud had lain thick on broad leaf or grass, it had, as I have said, cracked and fallen off, or been washed away by the heavy rains and dews, and our grounds and the country round were as beautiful as ever—more beautiful, I ought to say, for everything was fresher and greener, and where the swamps had been muddy and parched, and overhung with dry growth, all was bright and glorious, with the pools full up, and the water-ways overhung with mossy drapery, glittering and flashing back the sun's rays wherever the sun pierced the trees.

"Going for a walk, Master George?" said Morgan that morning, as I sauntered down the garden in the hot sunshine, wondering what I should do with myself.

"Yes," I said, eagerly, for the question had given me the idea I wanted. Yes, I would go for a walk.

"Better be careful, my lad. I would not overheat myself. After all this flooding there may be fever in the air. But there, you will take care of yourself."

"Yes, Morgan," I said, "I'll try. Seen Pomp anywhere?"

"No; not since breakfast. A lazy young dog. Make his father do all the work. What's that, sir?"

We both looked sharply round toward the forest, for there was the faint rustle of something moving, but the sound ceased as he spoke.

"Only a squirrel," I said, at a guess. "I think I shall go and have a bathe."

"Where?" said Morgan; "not in the river; the stream is too swift, sir, yet."

"No; in our big pool."

"Better take a pole and prod about well first. After all this water there may be a young alligator or two crept in."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of them," I said, laughing; and I listened again, for there was another faint rustle among the leaves, but it ceased, and I stood watching as Morgan tied up two or three of the great succulent vine-shoots which were trailing over one of the trees, luxuriating in the glowing sunshine, and showing goodly-sized bunches of grapes, such as would in another two months be so many little amber bags of luscious sweetness.

"Yes, I haven't had a swim since the flood," I thought to myself, as I went on, leaped over the rough, moss-grown fence, and was soon after making my way along past the edge of the sugar-cane plantation, where the weeds were growing like mad, and then through the great, tall-leaved rows of tobacco in the new clearing, where the stumps of the trees so laboriously cut down still stood.

In another ten minutes I was out of the glowing sunshine beneath the oaks with their flowing drapery of moss, now peering up to see if anything alive was moving among the branches, now noticing how far up the flood had risen, as shown by the mark of dried mud and the patches of withered reed, which still clung here and there.

But there was no sign of living thing, and I walked on for a time in and out among the great trunks in the deep shade towards where there was a broad patch of sunshine, and all therein looked to be of green and gold. It was the clearing where the trees had been cut down for building and fencing when we first came.

I was not long in placing myself upon a stump out here in the broad sunshine, to watch what was going on, for this was a favourite old place of mine, where I generally found something to interest me.

So it was on this day, for a great crane flew up and went off with a great deal of wing-flapping before it was clear of the trees; and as I was eagerly watching the spot where it had disappeared, there was one bright flash, and one only, as a humming-bird darted across the sunny clearing, to poise itself first here and then there, before the open flowers of the great creepers, its wings vibrating so rapidly that they were invisible, and the lovely little creature looked more like some great moth than a bird.

I knew him and his kind well enough, and that if I had had it in my hand, I should have seen his head and crest all of a bright ruby tint, and the scale-like feathers of its throat glowing almost like fire; but as it flew rapidly here and there, it seemed all of a dull, warm brown, surrounded by a transparency formed by its rapidly-beating wings.

I sat watching the humming-bird till another and another came to disturb the first, and begin chasing it, darting here and there like dragon-flies, now up, and now down; round and round, and sometimes coming so close that I could have beaten one to the ground with a bough. Then, all at once, they soared up and up, passed over the trees, and were gone, leaving me swinging my legs and whistling softly, as my eyes now wandered about in search of something else.

Oaks draped with moss, a great cypress at the edge of the clearing, which had grown up and up till it was higher than some of the trees, and spread its boughs over them like an umbrella to keep off the rain, and keeping off the sunshine as well, so that they had grown up so many tall, thin trunks, with tops quite hidden by the dark green cypress, and looking like upright props to keep its great top spread.

I knew that in all probability there was more than one 'possum in the great trees surrounding the opening, but Pomp was not there to find them, and I had no dog. I felt, too, that in all probability more than one bright pair of eyes were watching me from some bough, and their owners' bushy tails twitching and whisking about; but I could see nothing, and after a time, as a sudden thought struck me, I got down softly, and looked round for a stick. This was soon found, for whenever I cut one I generally left it thrust in somewhere among the dense growth.

Thus armed, I went cautiously across the clearing toward the farther side, where the gravelly bank was crowned by a tuft of pines, beneath which, in the full sunshine, the ground was almost bare, and dotted with stones, ashy, and dark, and dull, and grey.

I had committed more than one murder there, but they were murders in which I exulted, for they meant death to the horrible rattlesnake or deadly moccasin, as they lay sunning their cold blood in the hot rays, ready to deal death to the passer-by, whose inadvertent foot should disturb their sleep.

I went very cautiously, with my eyes scanning the spot eagerly, for at very little distance the reptiles would be invisible from the way in which their scales assimilated with the earth. But, though I used every caution, I saw no wavy or coiled up serpent asleep, nor caught sight of a tail rapidly following its owner in amongst the stunted herbage and stones.

"Getting scarcer," I said to myself, as I turned off again, and made for a faint track between the trees—a seldom-used path, leading on to the edge of the swamp that bordered the little river running down to the great tidal stream, which came from far away to the north-west among the mountains.

For a time, as I went on peering here and there, I forgot all about my first intention, but it came back strongly as I reached a natural opening, and once more passed out of the shade, which seemed streaked with threads of silver where the sun-rays darted through, and stood looking down at the broad, glistening, shallow pool, where we boys had often bathed.

The place looked beautiful as ever; the water wonderfully clear. Small fish darted away at my approach, and took refuge in the reeds and grass at the side, or in the broad patch of water-growth in one corner some twenty yards across.

There was the dead tree on my side of the pool, which was about sixty yards in length, and looked as tempting a spot for a bath as can be imagined.

The heat was growing oppressive, but the air was beautifully pure and clear; and the insects which darted about flashed in the sunshine, and kept up a continuous hum that was soothing and pleasant, as I began to take off my clothes, enjoying the sensation of the hot sun pouring its heat down upon my skin.

"I wish Pomp was here," I said to myself; and as I said those words, I burst out into a hearty fit of laughter, as in imagination I saw his black face shining in the water, and the great drops standing like pearls in his woolly head.

My thoughts did not promise him much enjoyment in his bath, for divers ideas connected with ducking, splashing, and the like occurred to me, the more forcibly from the fact, that though Pomp swam admirably, it was after the fashion of a duck, and not of a fish, for he never, if he could possibly help it, put his head under water.

I was half undressed, when I caught a glimpse of a good-sized pike, slowly rising to the surface to bask, and stooping down, and picking up the stick I had brought with me—a good stout piece of hickory nearly six feet long—I drew back a little, stole gently along the edge of the pool till I deemed myself about opposite, and then raising the stick with both hands, stole forward, to deal a heavy blow at the fish, trusting that if I missed it the stroke on the water might paralyse it, until I had had time to hook it ashore.

"Don't see why a crack with a stick should not do as well as an alligator's tail," I said to myself.

That blow was not delivered, for before I could gather myself up and bring my muscles to bear, the water flashed as a little wave rose, and the fish was far out of reach.

"Better luck next time," I said, as I went back to the tree, finished undressing, stood for a moment or two on the edge of the pool, and then dived in, sending the water flying up sparkling in the light.

It was deliciously invigorating, though the water was too much warmed by the sun to give me a swift electric shock; and as I rose to the surface, shook the drops from my eyes, and began to swim slowly along, I felt as if I had never enjoyed a bath so well before. For the water felt soft, and yielding, and elastic, and as if no effort was required to keep myself afloat.

"Pity old Pomp isn't here," I said, as I lazily swam to one end, where there were tufts of water weeds, and a kind of natural ditch took off the surplus water into a pool of similar size, a hundred yards away among the trees—a black-looking, overhung place, suggestive of reptiles, and depth, and dead tree-trunks with snaggy boughs ready to remove a swimmer's skin, though possibly if the trees had all been cleared away, and the bright sunshine had flooded it with light, it might have looked attractive enough.

As it was, I should have thought it madness to venture into such a spot, not knowing what danger might lurk therein, and I turned and swam back toward the other end, but stopped in the middle opposite my clothes lying on the fallen tree, and turned over to float and gaze up at the blue sky and the glorious hues of green upon the trees which surrounded the pool.

"I wonder where Pomp is," I said to myself, and then, satisfied that if he saw Morgan he would learn where I had gone, and follow, I turned over on my breast and began to swim lazily toward the end where the reeds grew.

"I dare say all the fish have taken refuge in there," I said to myself. "If one had a net to spread round, and then send Pomp in there with a pole to beat and thrash about, one might get, a good haul."

I swam on, driven by I don't know what attraction toward the great patch of reeds standing up out of the clear water, when all at once Morgan's words concerning alligators came to my mind, and for a moment I hesitated and ceased swimming, gazing straight before me at the large patch of aquatic growth, and then at another, a dozen yards away to my right.

"They'd only he little ones and scuttle off as hard as they could," I thought directly, and continued swimming toward the great patch before me, when, just as I was about a dozen feet from the thickest part, I felt a chill of horror run through me, paralysing every nerve, and my lips parted to utter a cry, for the reeds were suddenly agitated as by the passage of something forcing its way out, and to my horror the hideous open-mouthed snout of a great alligator was thrust forth, and from its wide jaws there came a horrible bellowing roar which sounded to me at the moment as if the monster had uttered the word Houk!

I could not for the moment stir nor utter a cry for help. Then as the reeds were more roughly agitated, and I saw that the brute was struggling out from the tangle of matted roots below the surface, I threw myself back, and splashing and beating the water with all my might to scare the reptile, I made for the shore.

The distance was only short, but to me then it seemed interminable.

I had only glanced over my shoulder once, to see that the alligator was in full pursuit, with its open jaws well above the surface, and evidently gaining upon me fast, as I tore through the water, sending all I could back over the monster's muzzle; but in those agonised moments all seemed in vain, as in imagination I felt myself seized, dragged under, and drowned.

The thought was far too horrible to bear; and, in spite of myself, I felt that I must turn round and face the brute, to make one brave struggle for life, and not let it seize me by the leg and drag me down, when just as I was about to yield to this feeling, and in the act of turning, my horror culminated, for there was a rush, and a great wave of water rose from the open patch of reeds on my left, and I knew that a second enemy had rushed out from its lair and was making for me.

I uttered a hoarse gasp, and began swimming again toward the shore, when once more a strange sensation ran through me, mingled of horror, despair, and wonder, as I heard in a hoarse, hollow voice I well knew, though it sounded strange—

"Oh, oh, Mass' George! Help! Great 'gator, Mass' George—help!"

The cry did not come from the bank, nor from among the trees, but from close behind me where the first alligator was in full pursuit, and as I once more ceased swimming, paralysed by wonder, I saw my first pursuer rise up in a peculiar way in the water, raise its two black paws to its head, take it off, and dash it at the second alligator, which seized it on the instant, a second head appearing just above the surface, closing upon the first with a snap, and then there was a tremendous swirl in the water, a tail appeared above the surface as the brute dived down, and as I swam on panting, the surface of the water behind grew calm.

But I was not swimming alone. Pomp's black head was close by me, and his voice rose in a sobbing howl as, shivering with horror, he kept on—

"Oh, swim fass, Mass' George; swim fass, Mass' George, 'fore de 'gator catch us. Oh, swim fass, Mass' George; swim fass, Mass' George! 'Fore de 'gator catch us," till we reached the shore and scrambled out, white and black, in the blazing sun, the water streaming down us, and both panting hard and trembling in every limb.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

"Oh—ho—ho—ho—ho! What a lubbly bit fun!" cried Pomp, as soon as the danger had passed away.

"Why, Pomp!" I cried at last, fiercely, for I was too much astonished to speak at first.

But he was off along the bank, to stop opposite the smaller batch of reeds, where he stood with both his fists doubled, stamping his bare feet, and shouting a perfect torrent of abuse at the invisible enemy.

I caught a word here and there, words full of threats of what he would do to the "ugly 'gator, nex' time." But I was too much upset to shout till I had scrambled into my clothes, when I went sharply along the edge of the pool to where the boy was still shaking his fists, and abusing the reptile which had nearly scared him to death.

But there was another scare ready for Pomp. Indignation was hot within me, and I made my presence known by a smart kick with my bare foot which nearly sent him into the pool again, and a cuff on the side of the head which knocked him back.

"Oh—oh—oh! Don't, Mass' George," he bellowed, as he dropped on his knees and held up his hands; "don't flog um, Mass' George. I nebber, nebber do so no more."

"You rascal!" I cried, catching him by the ear. "How came you to play me that trick?"

"On'y for bit ob fun, Mass' George; on'y for bit ob fun."

"You dog!" I cried, shaking him.

"On'y lil bit o' fun, Mass' George; got de 'gator's head on to frighten um. Nebber tink no 'gator dah, or not nebber done it."

"No, I suppose not," I cried. "How dare you try to frighten me like that!"

"Say, Mass' George, you pull dat ear right off."

"Serve you right too, sir. You insolent rascal. But I'll tell my father, and you shall be flogged."

"Oh no, don't do dat ah, Mass' George. Kick um again and pull um oder ear. Pomp won't holler much. Don't tell de massa."

"A blackguardly, cowardly trick with that nasty old alligator's head."

"But, Mass' George," cried Pomp, suddenly jumping up, "you no business beat kick a boy."

"What, sir!"

"Why, if I no do dat, an de ole 'gator get hold ob de head, he get hold ob you, an where you be now?"

My hand dropped to my side, and I stared in a puzzled way at Pomp, who began to show his white teeth, as it seemed to me that what he said was true, and that if the reptile had not dashed at the boy, and seized the old head thrown at him, he might have seized me and dragged me down.

"Tink I sabe you, Mass' George, and you hab berry narrow scrape; and den you say you tell de massa, and hab me flog."

"Yes," I said, half aloud, "he might have seized me."

"Oh, he hab you, sure 'nuff, Mass' George, and um be pickin' you bone now down in de mud—iyah—iyah—iyah!" he roared, in a great burst of laughter as he turned round to the water, rested his hands on his knees, and shouted—

"How you like big 'gator head, eh? You find um berry hard? Hope you like um, sah."

He faced round to me again, showing his teeth, and with his eyes twinkling with merriment.

"Don't tell a massa," he said, pleadingly.

I was conquered, for it was clear enough to me now that the boy's prank had in all probability saved my life. But I still hesitated as I seized him by both ears now, and gently swayed his head to and fro.

"Dat's right, Mass' George, pull um hard. I no mine a bit."

"You rascal!" I cried; "will you promise never to do it again?"

"Can't do it again, Mass' George; ugly great 'gator got de head."

"But will you play me such a trick again?"

"Dunno, Mass' George. You pull hard bofe ears togedder, and kick um."

"Where are your clothes?" I said, quite disarmed now.

"In de tree, Mass' George. Hab noder pull."

"No," I said. "Put on your clothes."

Pomp threw himself on the ground and began to howl.

"What's that for, sir?"

"You go tell de capen, and hab poor nigger flog. Ah, Mass' George, you bery cruel young massa."

"Get up, Pomp. I'm not going to tell father, but you shouldn't have played me such a trick."

The boy seemed as if made of india-rubber, for he sprang up, ducked down, stood on his head, and then went over and over head over heels three or four times before leaping up with a loud shout.

"Oh, Mass' George, pull um out; got big forn in um back."

It was quite true, and after I had relieved him of the spine, he ran to the biggest tree near, climbed up into the fork, and descended directly with his clothes, into which he slipped—not a long job, for he was by this time dry, and his garments consisted only of a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of cotton drawers, which came down to mid thigh.

"Now, look here, Mass' George," he cried, excitedly; "you'n me got to kill dat 'gator."

"Yes," I said, "I must lie in wait and shoot him."

"I tink so. What did he come in young mass' bath for? I go fetch um gun now."

"No, no," I said. "It would be no use."

"No," said Pomp, thoughtfully, and then showing his teeth; "too busy fryin' um dinner. Oh, Mass' George, what a bit ob fun!"

Pompey threw himself down, and laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I ten times—hund times more frightum than you, Mass' George. I tought um catch dis nigger for sartum, an' I felt so sorry for you, Mass' George, dat I holler out loud."

"Sorry for me?"

"Yes, sah. What you do widout Pomp?"

"Come along," I said, half surlily, half amused at the easy-going, light-hearted way in which the boy could forget the horrible peril in which he had placed himself.

"You berry sorry too, Mass' George.—I know."

"Know what?"

"How catch um 'gator?"

"How?"

"Pompey know. Show um a morrow. Good-bye, sah. Bring you 'noder dinner morrow morning."

He made a mock salutation in the direction he believed the reptile to have taken, and then together we began to thread our way through the trees, back toward the clearing, and then after another cautious look round for snakes made for the garden. But before we were within a hundred yards, Pomp stopped.

"Ole massa in big garden, Mass' George?"

"I don't know," I said. "He was going to be back to dinner."

"I go round de oder way. Mass' say I chop wood, and I was going to chop wood till I hear you say Morgan you go for walk, and I know you go for 'wim."

"Well?"

"Pomp very hurt upon Mass' George."

"Oh, were you?" I said.

"Mass' George say cruel fing to Pomp, so um go an' fess de ole 'gator head, and undress umself, an' get in de water firs, an' fright um."

"Ah, well, you'll be flogged one of these days, Master Pomp, without my telling tales of you."

"I 'pose I will," he said, thoughtfully. "No like for Mass' George tell, dough."

"Why not?"

"Cos dat hurt Pomp more dan de floggum."

"Nonsense!"

"Eh? Dat nonsense, Mass' George? I don't know. If Mass' Morgan tell and get Pomp flog, Pomp holler, 'Oh don't, oh don't!' an' fro himself on de ground, an' squiggle an' kick. But soon as done flog um, Pomp rub um back up gen tree, an' nebber mine a bit."

"I suppose so," I said.

"But if Mass' George tell an' get Pomp flog, dunno why, but no use rub back gen de tree. Hurt Pomp all de same."

So Pomp ran off to get round to the wood-shed, where I heard him as I reached the house chopping away as hard as he could, and making the wood fly; and I need hardly say I did not tell any tales about the boy's trick, though I thought about it a great deal.

My ideas of punishment were not of the flogging kind, but connected with some way of giving Master Pomp tit for tat by means of a scare; but my invention was rather at fault, and idea after idea was dismissed as soon as formed. They were not pleasant ideas, some of them, and they were all wanting in the element I wished to impart.

One of Sarah's wild-plum jam puffs, with a dose of medicine concealed therein, was dismissed at once. So was a snake in his bed, because there were objections to the trick. In all probability the snake would not stop there; and if it did, as it must necessarily be a harmless one, it would not frighten Pomp a bit, and might suggest the idea of playing a similar trick on me.

I could push him into the water first time we were on the river-bank, but he would only laugh and swim out.

I might lasso him suddenly some day, and tie him up to a tree, and leave him in the forest without anything to eat for a few hours; but I knew that I couldn't find the heart to torture the poor fellow like that; and if I could, no knots that I contrived would ever hold him very long.

"Bah! It's waste of time!" I said; and I gave it up, not knowing that I should soon have something far more serious to think about. For just as I was deep in my cogitations I heard a step, and my father came into sight, looking very hot and tired.

That evening, as we sat together by the light of a candle, with the forest insects humming round, he said suddenly—

"I'm afraid our troubles with the Spaniards are not over, George. These people are threatening again."

"But that does not matter, does it, father?"

"I don't know yet, my boy. There is a great deal of braggadocio and pride in your Spanish don, and they have plenty of enterprise and fight in them sometimes, as we know by what they have done."

"But will they come and fight against us, father?" I said, eagerly.

"I don't know that they will come and fight against us," he replied, dryly.

I felt the blood come up into my temples, and I spoke quickly—

"I know I'm only a boy, father, and not big enough to fight for you, or by your side like a soldier, but I could load."

He smiled and leaned toward me, and patted my shoulder.

"I beg your pardon, George," he said, kindly. "I ought not to have spoken as I did. You are only a boy, and while you are a boy I pray heaven that you may enjoy a boy's happy life, and that we may be free from all the troubles that are threatening. I am a soldier, and I have fought in the service of my country."

"Yes," I said, proudly, "I know. Morgan has often told me."

"Morgan ought to hold his tongue, and not put vain notions into your head."

"But he said it was glorious, father."

He looked at me sadly, and sighed.

"I am a soldier, George," he said; "but I am afraid that I have very little belief in what people call glory. In too many cases the brilliancy of the glory is dulled with blood and horror too terrible to be spoken of without a shudder. It is glorious to fight in defence of your country, its women and children, or to fight here for our homes; and while I have strength to lift a sword, or voice and knowledge to lead and direct others in such a cause, I will, if it is necessary, fight again. But after what I have been through and seen, I am ready to go down on my knees and pray the God of love and peace and mercy that neither I nor you may ever see sword flashed or shot fired in anger while we live."

He was silent for a few moments, and then he said, cheerfully—

"Come, what did the Latin writer say about a man defending his own country?"

"'Dulce et decorum est—'" I said, promptly, and then stopped short. "I forget the rest, father."

He laughed.

"Our life out here, as the pioneers of a new civilisation, is not conducive to the study of the classics, my boy. It's a rough school, where we have to take care to avoid fevers, and meet Indians, and are threatened with Spanish aggression, and have to fight for our lives against a flood. But there, we have drifted into a very serious talk."

"But I like it, father," I said eagerly, "though I am ashamed to have forgotten my Latin."

"Ah, well, you will look that passage up in your Horace, and I venture to say that it will be so impressed now upon your memory that it will never slip away. There, I mentioned the flood. Flood suggests boat. You said you thought the boat might have been carried up the stream into the woods somewhere."

"Yes," I said; "the water did come out of the big river and rush up ours."

"It is quite probable. You may find it as you say you did the hut. When are you going to search for it?"

"When you give me leave."

"Go when you like. I did think I should have to go again to-morrow to the settlement to confer with the General and the others, but messages have again been sent back to the Spanish Governor of Florida, and it must be many days, perhaps weeks, before we hear again, so you can go to-morrow if you will."

I leaped up from my seat excitedly.

"Where are you going now?"

"To tell Pomp to call me, and ask Sarah to prepare a basket of something to eat."

He nodded and took up a book, while after telling our housekeeper of my wants, I ran across the clearing to the edge of the forest to call the boy to get ready.

As I drew near I found Hannibal seated on a stump left by the cutting down of one of the trees to make room for the new hut, with his chin resting in his hands.

"Hallo, Han," I said; "anything the matter?"

"No, Mass' George," he said. "I only look up at de 'tars and tink."

"What about?"

"I wonder wedder dey de 'tars I see in my own country."

"Yes," I said; "I do know that. Do you ever want to go back again?"

"Back again, sah?"

"Yes—to your own country."

He shook his head. "No, Mass' George. Too much fight—too much kill— too much sell for slave; nebber go back again."

"Then you are happy here?"

"Yes, sah. Happy here wif Mass' George and de capen. Can't talk. Understand?"

"Oh, yes," I said; "I understand. Where's Pomp?"

"Sleep. Dah! I call um."

"No, no; let me," I said, laughing.

I went into the hut, and there on the blanket in a corner, with his mouth wide open, lay the boy fast asleep.

It was so dark inside that I should not have been able to make him out but for the gleam of light from the window, which made his teeth just visible.

I stood looking down at him and listening to his breathing for a few moments, before slipping out of the hut, taking my knife from my pocket, and cutting a long twig which I stripped, all but a few leaves at the end. As I came back, Hannibal rose.

"Don't whip, Mass' George," he said in a pleading whisper, as he laid his hand upon my arm.

"I was not going to," I said, laughing, "only to tickle him."

I saw the big African's teeth gleam, and I stole back into the hut on tip-toe, thinking the while how marvellous it was that a great fellow like the black, who could have almost crushed me with one hand, should be so patiently submissive, and give up to me as he did.

But that thought passed away as I stood over Pomp and gently tickled him on one cheek. He moved restlessly, and I tickled the other with the leaves. He turned back again, and the end of the twig began to play about his neck. There was a quick rustle, one hand struck at the twig and Pomp rolled over upon his face. This gave me a good opportunity to titillate both sides of his neck, and he sprang round again.

"Bodder!" I heard him mutter; but I persevered, making the twig play well about him.

"Bodder de fly!" he cried, viciously; but the twig tickled away, and Pomp's eyes were so tightly closed that he contented himself with twisting and rubbing himself.

"Wait I get up, I mash all de ole fly eberywhere," he muttered.

Tickle—tickle—tickle.

Slip slap. Pomp's hands delivered a couple of blows on his bare skin.

Tickle—tickle—tickle.

"You no like me come mash you, eh?"

Tickle—tickle—tickle.

"Yah! You great ugly skeeter, you leave lil nigger go sleep."

"Buzz—buzz—hum." Tickle—tickle—tickle. I made as good an imitation as I could of a gnat's hum, and kept up the tickling till he made two or three vicious lounges out at where I stood in the darkness, and this time he got hold of the twig.

"Eh?" he exclaimed. "Dat not skeeter fly. Dat you, fader? You let lil nigger go sleep. Keep a 'tick 'till."

"Eh? Who dat? Ah, yah! It you, Mass' George. I know all de time."

"No, you didn't, old sleepy head."

"Eh? Well, what head for at night but sleep um? You want Pomp go after 'coon?"

"No; look here, Pomp; we're to go and try to find the boat in the morning. Come and call me as soon as it's day."

"Eh? Why not go now, Mass' George?"

"No, no; I want to go and have a good sleep first. Mind, as soon as it's light; I'll take the gun."

"I call you, Mass' George, widout come an' ticklum wif lil 'tick, ha— ha—ha! I know."

"Good-night."

"Good-night, Mass' George; I come and climb up your window; and you look out."

"I will," I said to myself as I went away, said good-night to Hannibal, and hurried back to bed, but not till I had carefully fastened my window ajar, so that Pomp could not get it open in the morning. And there I was, too much excited by the ideas of the trip to get to sleep. For as I lay there I could picture the little river winding in and out among the great trees of the primeval forest, and see it here black as night flowing sluggishly beneath the drooping moss-hung trees, there dancing in the sunshine that rained down from above, and then on and on in amongst the mysterious shades where in all probability the foot of man had never trod.

"Oh," I said to myself at last, as I lay listening to the monotonous piping insect hum, and the bellowings and croakings from the wood, "how hot it is! I do wish it was day."

But it seemed that many hours must elapse before day could come, and in a curious dreamy way I was wandering on and on through the tangled wood close to the river-bank, when Pomp said in a whisper—

"Hi! Mass' George, you go 'top seep all day?"

I started up to find that I had slept for hours, and light in the shape of the morning was at the window, in company with darkness in the form of Pomp's black face.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

I lost no time in dressing after opening my window wide, there being no fear now of Pomp getting at me to have his revenge while I was asleep for the tricks I had played upon him.

The boy thrust in his legs with an easy motion, as soon as the window was thrown open, raising himself and dropping gently into a sitting position to watch me wash and dress.

"Well, why are you looking on in that contemptuous way?" I said at last, as I noted the play of his face.

"Dat not temshus, Mass' George," he said. "I only sit and fink what long time you are wash and dress."

"That's not long," I said; "why, how long are you?"

"No time, Mass' George. I go bed like am now, and get up like am now, and come on."

"But do you mean to say you haven't washed this morning?"

"How I 'top go to ribber an' wash, when Mass' George wait to be called? Hab good 'wim when we get to ribber."

I finished dressing, and took Pomp into Sarah's kitchen, where we both made a hearty meal, which was interrupted by Pomp insisting upon having the shot and powder pouches buckled on him at once, so that he might make sure of them, and not be defrauded of the honour of carrying them by any tricks on my part.

He did not look so pleased at having to carry the wallet which had been well stored ready for our use, but he submitted to have the strap thrown over his head, and passed one arm through. Then full of eagerness I shouldered the gun, and we started off into the forest, passing the clearing where the rattlesnake had been killed, and next passing on to the little river, up whose course we were to make our way, keeping a good look-out for the boat the while.

The morning was glorious, the sun piercing the low-lying mist, which rapidly grew more transparent, broke up, and seemed to dissolve away. The birds were piping and screaming in the trees, and as we reached the river, where all was light and sunshine, we started first a great white crane, which rose from the shallows and flew off, then a kingfisher with dazzling coat, and soon after came in sight of a little flock of rosy-winged flamingoes, with their curious, long, snaky, writhing necks, and quaintly-shaped bills, which always looked to me as if they were made to use upside down.

"Well, I nebber see!" cried Pomp at last, after stepping back, and preserving the most profound silence time after time.

"What's the matter?"

"Why Mass' George no shoot?"

"Because we don't want the birds. You don't care to have to carry them, do you?"

"No; dis wallet um so dreffle heabby."

We tramped on a little farther, now in the deep shade, now in the golden sunshine when we could get close to the stream, and then Pomp sighed.

"Mass' George like to carry de walletum now?"

"No; I'm carrying the gun."

"Pomp carry de gun."

"Oh, no," I said, "I'll manage that;" and we went slowly on again. There was no track, and near the river where the light and sunshine played there was plenty of thick undergrowth, while a short distance back in the forest the walking was easy among the trees, where scarcely anything clothed the ground in the deep shadow.

Pomp kept trudging away toward the dark, shadowy forest, and I had to stop him again and again, for the boat was not likely to be in there. On the last occasion he said—

"Walletum dreffle heabby, Mass' George. Don't think better carry um inside?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mass' George eat half, and Pomp eat half. Den we hab nuffum to carry."

I naturally enough burst out laughing.

"Why, we've only just had a good breakfast, and couldn't eat any more."

"Oh yes, Pomp could, big lots."

"And what are we to have to eat by and by, when we get hungry?"

"Mass' George shoot ducks; Pomp make fire an' roace um."

"No, no, no," I cried. "Here, pass me the wallet, and I'll give you a rest."

"And Pomp carry de gun," he cried, eagerly.

"No, sir. If you can carry the gun, you can carry the wallet. Here, give me hold."

Pomp looked disappointed as he handed over the wallet very slowly, and after slinging it on we once more progressed, looking carefully in all directions in search of the lost boat, but seeing nothing; and I soon had to come to the conclusion that the chances were very greatly against our finding the object of our search.

It was slow work, but for some miles the place was familiar, my father having brought me as far exploring, and Pomp and I having several times over boated through the dark forest along that bright, winding highway— the river; generally with some difficulty, on account of the fallen trees, and snags, and dense overgrowth, beneath which we often had to force our way, while at other times we had almost to cut a channel through the lilies and other water plants which choked the stream.

It was plain enough to see though, now, how comparatively easy a journey would have been in a boat, for the large flood-waves which had swept up the river had scoured out its bed, throwing vast rotting heaps of the succulent water-growths ashore to rot, fester, and dry in the hot sun.

High up too I could see the traces where the flood had reached, well marked by the dry grass hanging among the boughs.

But we kept on forcing our way slowly, soon getting into a part of the river that was entirely new, and growing more and more fascinating to me at every step.

For there was, in addition to the glorious beauty of the bright, sunny river, with its banks where in places the trees drooped down and dipped their boughs in the smooth water, and the various growths were of the most dazzling green, always something new—bird, quadruped, insect, or fish taking my attention to such a degree that I often forgot the boat and the object of our journey.

Pomp was just as excited as I, touching my arm every now and then to point with a black finger at some grey heron standing thigh-deep, watching for the fish that nearly made the waters alive; and perhaps just as we were waiting to see him make the next dart with his beak at some shoal of unfortunate fry, there would be what seemed to be a great curved bar of silver flash out of the water, to plunge in again, giving us just a glimpse of the fierce fish's glittering scales. Every now and then some big fellow would leap right out, to come down again with a heavy splash, and send a whole shoal of tiny fish, invisible to us before, flying out of the water to avoid their enemy, the river shark.

A little farther, and Pomp's lips would be close to my ear imploring me to shoot as he indicated a bit of sandy or muddy shore where, just clear of the water and looking like a piece of tree-stump, a great alligator would lie basking in the hot sunshine.

But I invariably resisted his prayers, and as we went on, the reptile would suddenly hear our coming and scuffle rapidly out of sight, making a great swirl in the water as he disappeared.

"No, Pomp," I would say, "the first 'gator I shoot must be that one in the bathing-pool. Come along."

On we went, with the river winding in and out through the forest, and there was always something fresh to see: humming-birds that were not so big as some of the butterflies and beetles that swarmed in the sunshiny parts; great lagoon-like pools where the running of the stream became invisible, and we could see far down in the deep water where fish were slowly gliding in and out among the roots of the trees, which in many places clothed the bottom with masses of fibre. Now Pomp's eyes would be ready to start out of his head as we neared a corner, or starting off into the forest to avoid some wild or swampy patch, we crept out to the river's bank again, to startle a little flock of ducks which had been preening themselves, and sent feathers like tiny boats floating down the stream.

"Plenty of time," I would keep saying. "We don't want them yet, and I'll shoot them when we do."

"But 'pose dey not dah to shoot when you want um, Mass' George. I dreffle hungry now."

"Ah," I said at last, "our wallet is getting heavy. Let's pick out a place, and have some lunch."

Pomp pricked up his ears, as he generally did when he heard a new word, and this was one ready for him to adopt.

"Iss," he said, eagerly, "I berry fond o' lunch. I fought smell um yesday when missie cook um."

"Cook what?" I said.

"Dat lunch, Mass' George."

I laughed, and pressed on to look for a good spot, and soon found one where a great tree, whose roots had been undermined by the river, had fallen diagonally with its branches half in the water, and offering us a good seat just nicely shaded from the burning sun, while we had only to lie out on its great trunk and reach down to be able to fill the tin can I had with the clear water.

The gun was leaned up against the tree-roots; we each sat astride facing each other, the bigness of the tree making it rather an uneasy seat; I slung the wallet round and placed it between us, and had just thrust in my hand, while Pomp wrenched himself round to hang the ammunition pouches close to the gun on a ragged root behind him, when, all at once, the boy's left leg flew over and kicked the wallet out of my hands, and he bounded a couple of yards away to stand grinning angrily and rubbing himself.

"Too bad, Mass' George. What do dat for?"

"Do what?" I cried, roaring with laughter, as I stooped down and picked up the wallet, out of which fortunately nothing had fallen.

"'Tick um pin in poor lil nigger."

"I didn't," I said; "and see what you've done."

"Yes, Mass' George did. Pomp felt um. You wait bit, I serb you out."

"But I tell you I did not, Pomp," I cried, as I wiped my eyes. "Oh, you ridiculous-looking little chap! Come and sit down."

"No, won't. You 'tick um pin in poor lil nigger behind leg 'gain."

"I will not, 'pon my honour," I cried. "Oh, you did look comic."

"Made um feel comic dicklus," cried Pomp, catching up the two words I had used. "Did hurt."

"Come and sit down."

"You no 'tick um pin in 'gain?"

"I haven't got a pin," I said.

"Den I know; it was um big forn."

"It wasn't, Pomp. Come and sit down and have some lunch."

"No. Won't come. Don't want no lunchum. Hurt poor Pomp dreffle. You alway play um trick."

"I tell you I didn't do anything, Pomp. There, come along."

He caught sight of the food I brought now from the wallet, and it was irresistible.

"You no 'tick pin in nigger 'gain?"

"No."

"Nor yet um forn?"

"No. Come along, you little unbeliever. Come along."

"I serb you out fo dat, Mass' George, you see," he said, sidling back to the tree, watching me cautiously the while.

"Oh, very well, I'll forgive you," I said, as he retook his place. "I say, Pomp, I am thirsty."

"So 'm I, Mass' George. Dat lunchum?"

"Yes; that's lunch," I said, as I laid the neatly-done-up napkin containing provision of some kind on the tree-trunk between us, and taking out the tin can I leaned right back, gripping the tree with both legs, and lowering my hand I dipped the vessel full of water.

I was just in the act of rising cautiously and very slowly, when a sharp pain in the fleshy part of my leg made me spring forward in agony, dashing the water in Pomp's face, knocking the wallet and its contents over sidewise, and in my pain and rage I seized the boy to begin cuffing him, while he wrestled with me to get away, as we hugged and struggled like two fighting men in a melee on the same horse.

"How dare you!" I panted; "that was the point of your knife. I'll teach you to—Oh, murder!"

"Oh, Mass' George, don't! Oh! Oh! Oh!"

We both made a bound together, went off the trunk sidewise, and Pomp struggled up, tore off his shirt and drawers, and began to beat and shake them, and then peep inside, pausing every moment to have a rub; while I, without going to his extreme, was doing the best I could to rid myself of my pain.

"Nas' lil fing!" cried Pomp, stamping on something in the grass. "Look, look, Mass' George, make hase; dey eat all de lunchum."

The mystery was out. We had seated ourselves upon the home of a vicious kind of ant, whose nest was under the rotten bark of the tree, and as soon as Pomp realised the truth he danced about with delight.

"I fought you 'tick pin in lil nigger. You fought I 'tick um knife in Mass' George! You catch um, too."

"Yes," I said, wriggling under my clothes, and rubbing myself. "Oh! Quick! Back of my neck, Pomp, look. Biting."

Pomp sprang to me in an instant.

"I got um, Mass' George. Dah!" he cried, as he placed the vicious little insect between his teeth, and bit it in two. "You no bite young massa 'gain. How you like be bite, sah? Make you feel dicklus, eh? Oh! Ugh! Tiff! Tiff! Tiff! Oh, um do tase nasty."

Pomp spat and shuddered and ended by washing out his mouth by running a little way, lying flat with his head over the bank, and scooping up some water with his hand.

Meanwhile I cautiously picked up the provisions, the napkin and wallet, and carefully shook them clear of the vicious little things—no easy job, by the way; after which, stinging and smarting still, I sought another place where we could eat our meal in peace.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

"No, no, Pomp," I said, after a time, during which we had been thoroughly enjoying our food, "you've had quite enough. We shall want to make this last till night."

"Mass' George no want to finish um all up?"

"No."

"So not hav' to carry walletum."

"Of course not. We shall soon be hungry again."

"Catch fis; shoot de duck; Pomp fine plenty 'tick; and make a fire."

"I wish you'd find the boat," I said, packing up the remains of the meal the while. "Think it's any use to go any farther?"

"Yes; go right on, Mass' George; plenty time."

"Yes, we'll go on," I said, for I felt refreshed and rested, and as if I should like to go journeying on for days—the beauty of the river and the various things we saw exciting a desire to continue our trip. "I don't suppose any one ever came here before, but we mustn't lose our way."

"Couldn't lose way, Mass' George. Ony got to keep by ribber, and he show de way back."

"Of course," I said; "I forgot that."

"No walk back."

"I hope not," I said. "We are going to find the boat."

Pomp made a grimace and looked round, as if to say, "Not likely."

"No find a boat, put lot ob 'tick togedder and float down de ribber home."

"Ah, well, we'll see," I said; and we continued our journey for hour after hour, always finding some fresh beauty to entice me, or living object for Pomp to stalk and beg me to shoot. But though we looked here and there as well as we could, there was no sign of the object of our search; in fact, I soon began to feel that I had embarked upon an enterprise that was almost an impossibility.

The river had now grown a little swifter, and though there was plenty of swampy land down by its banks, it seemed as if we were getting into a more elevated region, the margin being higher, and here and there quite precipitous, but it was always more beautiful, and the objects of natural history grew frequent every hour.

Now it was a squirrel, of which there seemed to be great numbers; then all at once, as we were threading our way through the low bushes, something sprang up from its lair and went bounding off among the trees, giving me just a glimpse of a pretty head with large eyes and small horns, before it was gone.

"Oh, Mass' George, you ought shoot dat," said Pomp, reproachfully. "Dat berry good to eat."

"If I had been on the look-out, I could not have hit it," I said. "But I say, Pomp," I continued, looking round as we came upon a high sandy bluff through which the river had cut its way, and whose dry, sun-bathed sides offered a pleasant resting-place, "aren't you tired?"

"No," said the boy, thoughtfully, "Pomp not bit tired, only one leg."

"Well, are you hungry then?"

"Dreffle, Mass' George. You like emp de walletum now?"

"Yes, we'll sit down and have a good meal, and then we shall have to make haste back."

"Top lil bit, Mass' George," said the boy, cautiously.

"Oh no, there are no pins and forns there to 'tick in us," I said.

"No, Mass' George, but dat sort o' place for rattle tailum 'nake. I go look fust."

I felt a shudder run through me at the mention of the noxious creature, and brought the gun to bear as we advanced.

"No; no shoot," whispered the boy. "Big 'tick bess for 'nake."

We advanced very cautiously, with our eyes searching the ground, but there was nothing in sight, and after selecting a comfortable place where the sand had slowly been washed down from the bluff till it lay thick and dry as when it is drifted on the seashore, we sat down, the fine grains feeling delightful to our limbs, and made a hearty meal of the remains left in the wallet.

It was wonderfully still there, the trees being quite motionless, and the only sounds heard being the hum of some insect and the ripple of the water a dozen yards away. High above us through the thin tracery of an overhanging tree the sky looked of a brilliant blue, and away to left and right extended the forest.

Pomp was lying face downwards, lazily scooping a hole in the sand, and watching it trickle back as fast as he scraped it away, just as if it were so much dry water in grains. I was lying on my back where the sand sloped up to the bank; and as I gazed at the trees, half expecting to see our boat sticking somewhere up among the branches, it seemed to me as if I had never felt so happy and contented before. Perhaps it was the soft, clear atmosphere, or the fact that I was resting, or that I had just partaken of a pleasant meal. I don't know. All I can say is that everything felt peaceful and restful; even Pomp, who as a rule was like a piece of spring in motion. There was a lovely pale blue haze in the distance, and a warm golden glow nearer at hand; the sun was getting well to the west; and I knew that we must soon start and walk fast, so as to get back, but I did not feel disposed to move for a few minutes.

We should be able to walk so much better after a rest, I thought, and we should not stop to look for the boat, or at anything, but keep steadily walking on, so that it would not take us a quarter of the time; and if night did come on, the moon would rise early, and we could easily get to the house.

How deliriously faint and blue that looked right away there in the distance, and how still it all was! Even Pomp enjoyed the silence, and I would not disturb him yet, but let him rest too. No fear of any snakes coming if we were there, and in a few minutes I'd jump up, tell Pomp, and we'd go and have a delicious bathe, and dry ourselves in the warm sand; that would make us walk splendidly. But I would not wake him yet—not just yet—I'd wake him presently, for he was so still that he must have gone to sleep. There he lay with his face to the sand, and his fingers half buried in the hole he had been scraping.

"What a fellow he is to snooze!" I thought to myself. "Lucky I'm not so ready to go to sleep. How—how long shall I wait before I wake him?—How long—how long—how—"



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A jerk! Then a hasty movement. I must have left the window open, and a fly or a beetle had got in and was tickling my ear. Now it was on my cheek—then on the other cheek—my neck again—my ear—my eyes—and now—

"Ertchsshaw—ertchsshaw!" It was right on my nose, and I start up to brush it away, and in the gloom recognise the figure of Pomp, who burst into a roar of laughter.

"Mass' George tiddle lil nigger; now lil nigger tiddle Mass' George."

"Why, Pomp," I said, sitting up and staring, "I—I thought I was at home."

"No, Mass' George. Home long a way. Been sleep, and Pomp been sleep."

I shivered, got up, and stamped about.

"Yes, Mass' George, um dreffle cole."

"Here, get the powder and shot, and let's go back."

Pomp shook his head.

"No good go now. Get 'tuck in de forn, or tumble in de ribber."

"But we must go."

"No see de way; an' all de big 'gator go out for walk now, Mass' George."

"What time can it be?"

"Dunno, Mass' George, o'ny know not morrow mornin' yet."

I looked about me, and tried to make out the forest path by which we should have to go; but all was dark as night could be, except overhead where a faint gleam showed where the moon should have been giving her light, had not the clouds and mist interposed.

I did not like the look of it, but on the other hand I was afraid to give up; I knew that my father would be anxious, perhaps setting out in search of me.

That last thought fixed me in my determination, and taking up the gun, I said firmly—

"Come along."

"Mass' George go shoot somefin?"

"No; let's get back home."

"No get home now. Too dark."

"But we must get home."

"Mass' George say muss get home, but de dark night say he no get home."

"Let's try," I said.

Pomp was obedience itself, and he followed me as I strode back to the edge of the forest, entered the dense thicket close to the river, and had not gone a hundred yards before just in front of me there was a crashing, rustling noise, and a dull sullen plunge.

"I yah, ugly ole 'gator. Take care, Mass' George, he don't hab you."

I felt my heart beat fast, but I tried to fix it upon my mind in the foremost place that the reptiles fled from me, and were perhaps more alarmed than I was; but as I pressed forward, Pomp suddenly said, piteously—

"No got shoe like Mass' George. Poor Pomp put him foot in 'gator mouf. Oh!"

Pomp caught hold of me tightly, for from somewhere in front there came a low snarling roar, which I had never before heard; but report had told of different savage creatures which came down from the hills sometimes, mountain lions, as the settlers called them, and to face one of these creatures in the dark was too much for my nerves.

"It's unlucky," I said to Pomp; "but we can't get back to-night. We had better get out from among the trees."

Pomp wanted no second hint; he was behind, and he turned at once, and led the way back to the sandy bluff, where he stood shivering.

"What was dat, Mass' George?"

"I don't know," I said. "Some kind of great cat, I suppose."

"Pomp tink he know. It great big monkey like in him country. Great big as fader, and big long arm, an um shout ooooor! Like dat."

He uttered as deep-toned a roar as he could, and made a snatch at me directly and held on, for from out of the forest came an answering roar that sounded terrific to us, as we stood there shivering with cold and fear.

"Mass' George! Mass' George!" whispered Pomp, with his lips close to my ear, "tell um I berry sorry. I no do um no more."

"Hush!" I said, and I stood ready with the gun presented, fully expecting to see a dark shadowy form crawling over the light-coloured sand, and trying to get within range for a spring.

But all was still once more, and we waited in expectancy for some minutes before there was a great floundering splash in the water to our right; and then away to the left where the river ran black and mysterious in the night—where all was bright and beautiful by day— there came evidently from three different parts as many bellows, such as must have been given by alligators of great size.

"Come 'long, Mass' George," whispered Pomp.

"No," I said, "we must wait till day."

"Dey come and hab us bofe, Mass' George, we 'top here. Come 'long."

"But it is impossible."

"Yes, Mass' George, um possible; come and get up dat big tree."

The proposition seemed so much in unison with my feelings that I followed my companion at once, and he paused under a great oak a little farther from the river, and beyond the bluff.

"Dah, Mass' George, make base up an' let me come. I dreffle frighten."

"Then go first."

"No, Mass' George, you go firs', you de mas'r."

"Then I order you to go first, Pomp," I said.

"Den we bofe clime up togedder, Mass' George. You go one way, and Pomp go oder way."

There seemed to be no time for discussion on questions of precedent, so we began to climb together, reaching a great branch about twenty feet from the ground, no easy task for me, encumbered as I was by the gun.

"Ha ha!" cried Pomp, who seemed to have recovered his courage as soon as he was up in the tree; "no 'gator catch um up here, Mass' George. Nebber see 'gator, no, not eben lil 'gator, climb up tree."

"No," I said in a low tone, which impressed the boy so that he sat speechless for some time; "no, but the panthers can, more easily than we do, Pomp."

I don't know what sort of a shot I should have made; probably I should have been too nervous to take good aim up there in the dark; but for what seemed a terrible length of time I sat there gun in hand, ready to fire at the first savage creature I could see, and a dozen times over I conjured up something stealthily approaching. But it was not until we had been up there about an hour that I felt quite certain of some great cat-like creature being beneath the tree.

It was not creeping forward, but crouched down as if watching us, ready at our first movement to change its waiting attitude into one of offence.

Pomp made no sign, but he was so still that I felt sure he could see it too, and I was afraid to call his attention to it, lest it should bring the creature on me so suddenly that it might disorder my aim. So I sat on with the piece directed at the object, my finger on the trigger, hesitating, then determined to fire, when all at once it seemed to me that the animal had grown plainer.

This, though I had not detected the movement, must mean that it was getting nearer and about to spring, so casting all hesitancy to the winds, I raised the gun to my shoulder, and then quite started, for Pomp said aloud—

"Mass' George going shoot?"

"Yes," I said, in a husky whisper. "Keep still; do you see it?"

"No. Where be um?"

"There, there," I whispered; "down straight before us."

"What, dat?"

"Yes. Be still, or you'll make it leap at us."

"Why, dat lil tree."

There was a tone of such astonishment in the boy's voice that I bent lower and lower down, knowing how much better Pomp's eyes were than mine; and as I looked, I saw that the object was clear, and that it was indeed a low patch of shrub getting plainer and plainer rapidly now, for it was morning once more.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

"Now, Mass' George," said Pomp, as we stood at the foot of the tree, and stamped about to get rid of the stiffness, and cold brought on by our cramped position on the branch, "de fuss ting am breckfuss. I so dreffle hungry."

"But we ate everything last night," I said.

"Neb mind; plenty duck in de ribber. You go shoot four lil duck, dat two piece, while Pomp make fire to roace um."

"But how are we to get a light?"

"You see," he said, as he busily began to get together all the loose sticks he could find lying about, at the same time showing me a stone and his knife with a little bag full of tinder. "I soon get light, Mass' George; I get big fire much soon you get de duck."

The proposition was so sensible that I went off with the gun, and following the course of the river beyond the bluff, I was not long before I heard a familiar noise, and creeping forward in the grey dawn, I was soon crouching behind the low growth by a wide pool of the river, where quite a flock of ducks were disporting themselves, preening their feathers, diving, making the bright drops run over their backs like pearls, and ending by flapping and beating the water heavily with their wings, exactly as I had seen them perform in the pond at home.