ONCE MORE AND YET ANOTHER TIME.ONCE MORE AND YET ANOTHER TIME.
That night, when they had both danced again for the people and Horatio had given them an acrobatic exhibition, they strolled away through the evening loaded down with luxuries of all kinds. The villagers went with them to the outskirts, and called good luck after them. As they passed into the quietshadows of the forest they once more heard the barking of dogs in the distance behind them.
"We have had a good day, Bosephus," said Horatio, with a long sigh of satisfaction. "We are on the road to fortune. To be sure, there are little thorns along the way—"
"Dogs, for instance—and guns."
"Trifles, Bosephus; trifles. Don't give them a second thought. Of course you are only a little boy as yet, and will outgrow these fears."
"And learn to climb trees."
"I hope you don't think I climbed that tree out of fear, Bosephus. I merely went up there to get a better view of my audience. One should always rise above his audience. And now let us sing softly together as we go. It will rest us after our day of conquest."
And touching the strings lightly and singing softly together, the friends sought leisurely their evening camp. Here and there a light rustle in the bushes showed that the forest people were listening, and the leaves of the forest whispered in time to their melody.
Music 1st Line
"Oh! the night was warm and the moon was bright,And we pitched our camp in the pale moonlight;
Music 2nd Line
In the pale moonlight and the green, green shade,And we counted up together all the money we had made."
THE little boy jingled the coins in his hands, and sang reflectively to the Bear's soft music. Their camp fire had died down to a few red embers, and the big moon hanging in the tree-tops made all the world white and black, with one bright splash in the brook below. They had finished their supper, and Bosephus, with the needle and thread given to him by old Mis' Todd, had patiently mended by the firelight a small rent in his trouser leg. Horatio, watching him with a grin, had finally remarked:—
"You see, Bo, if you wore clothes like mine you wouldn't have to do that."
"And if the dog that did that had got his teeth into your clothes, you'd have wished they were like mine. Maybe that's why you didn't give him a chance."
"Let's count the money, Bo."
So then they counted up their day's receipts. There was something more than a dollar in all, and Horatio was much pleased.
THEIR CAMP-FIRE HAD DIED DOWN.THEIR CAMP-FIRE HAD DIED DOWN.
"I tell you, Bo," he said excitedly, "we've made a fine start. By and by we will earn two or three times that much every day, and be able to start our bear colony before you know it."
The little boy fondled the coins over and over. They were the first he had ever earned.
"Ratio," he said at last, "don't you suppose when we get a lot of money—a big lot, I mean—we might give some to those people I used to live with?"
Horatio scowled.
"I thought you said they didn't treat you well and you had to run away."
"Yes, of course, Ratio; but then they were so poor and maybe they'd have been better to me if I had been able to earn money for them. They did take me out of the poor house, you know, and—"
"And you tried to get back again and got lost and fell in with me. Now you are sorry and want to go to them, do you?" and the Bear snorted so fiercely that the little boy trembled.
"Oh, no! Not for the world! I never was so happy in all my life, only I just thought—"
"Then don't think, Bo," interrupted Horatio, gently. "You are only a little boy. I will do the thinking for this firm. Now for a song, Bo, to soothe us."
So then they played and sang softly together while the moon rose and the fire died out, and the boy poured the money from hand to hand, lovingly.
"Bosephus," said his companion, as they paused, "were those people you lived with nice people? Nice fat people, I mean?"
"Not very. Old Mr. Sugget might have been pretty fat if he'd had more to eat, but Mis' Sugget wasn't made to get fat, I know. It wasn't her build."
"It was the old man that abused you, wasn't it?"
"Well, mostly."
"Knocked you about and half starved you?"
"Sometimes, but then——"
"Wait, please. I have an idea. When we get our bear colony started we'll invite this Sugget party to visit us. We'll feed him—all he can eat. By and by, when he gets fat—how long do you suppose it will take him to get fat, Bo? Fat enough, I mean?"
"Fat enough for what?" shivered Bo.
Horatio drew the horsehair briskly across the strings and looked up at the moon.
"Fat enough to be entertaining," he grinned, and began singing:—
"Oh, there was an old man and his ways were mighty mean,And he wasn't very fat and he wasn't very lean,Till he went to pay a visit to a colony of bears,Then you couldn't find a nicer man than he was, anywheres."
While the Bear played the little boy had been watching a slim, moving shadow that seemed to have drifted out from among the heavier shadows into the half-lit open space in front of them. As the music ceased it drifted back again.
"Play some more, Ratio," he whispered.
Again the Bear played and again the slim shadow appeared in the moonlight and presently another and another. Some of them were slender and graceful; some of them heavier and slower of movement. As the music continued they swung into a half circle and drew closer. Now and then the boy caught a glimpse of two shining sparks that kept time and movement with each. He could hardly breathe in his excitement.
"Look there, Ratio," he whispered.
Horatio did not stir.
"Sh-h!" he said softly. "My friends—the forest people."
The Bear slackened the music a little as he spoke and the shadows wavered and drew away. Then he livened the strain and they trooped forward again eagerly.
Just then the moon swung clear of the thick trees and the dancers were in its full flood. The boy watched them with trembling eagerness.
A tall, catlike creature, erect and graceful, swayed like a phantom in and out among the others, and seemed to lead. As it came directly in front of the musicians it turned full front toward them. It was an immense gray panther.
At any other time Bo would have screamed. Now he was only fascinated. Its step was perfect and its long tail waved behind it, like a silver plume, which the others followed. Two red foxes kept pace with it. Two gray ones, a little to one side, imitated their movements. In the background a family of three bears danced so awkwardly that Bo was inclined to laugh.
"We will teach them to do better than that when we get our colony," he said.
Horatio nodded without pausing. The dancers separated, each group to itself, the gray panther in the foreground. Spellbound, the boy watched the beautiful swaying creature. He had been taught to fear the "painter," as it was called in Arkansaw, but he had no fear now. He almost felt that he must himself step out into that enchanted circle and join in the weird dance.
New arrivals stole constantly out of the darkness to mingle in the merrymaking. A little way apart a group of rabbits skipped wildly together, while near them a party of capering wolves had forgotten their taste for blood. Two plump 'coons and a heavy bodied 'possum, after trying in vain to keep up with the others, were content to sit side by side and look on. Otherfriends, some of whom the boy did not know, slipped out into the magic circle, and, after watching the others for a moment, leaped madly into the revel. The instinct of the old days had claimed them when the wild beasts of the forest and the wood nymphs trod measures to the pipes of Pan. The boy leaned close to the player.
"The rest of it!" he whispered. "Play the rest of it!"
"I am afraid. They have never heard it before."
"Play it! Play it!" commanded Bo, excitedly.
There was a short, sharp pause at the end of the next bar, then a sudden wild dash into the second half of the tune. The prancing animals stopped as if by magic. For an instant they stood motionless, staring with eyes like coals. Then came a great rush forward, the gray panther at the head. The boy saw them coming, but could not move.
"Sing!" shouted Horatio; "sing!"
For a second the words refused to come. Then they flooded forth in the moonlight. Bo could sing, and he had never sung as he did now.
Music 3rd Line
"Oh, our singing, yes our singing, all our friends to us 'tis bringing,For it sets the woods to ringing, and the forest people know
Music 4th Line
That we do not mean to harm them in their dancing, nor alarm them—We are seeking but to charm them with the sounds of long ago."
THE INSTINCT OF THE OLD DAYS HAD CLAIMED THEM.THE INSTINCT OF THE OLD DAYS HAD CLAIMED THEM.
At the first notes of the boy's clear voice the animals hesitated; then they crept up slowly and gathered about to listen. They did not resume dancing to this new strain. Perhaps they wanted to learn it first. Bo sang on and on. The listening audiencenever moved. Then Horatio played very softly, and the singer lowered his voice until it became like a far off echo. When Bo sang like this he often closed his eyes. He did so now.
The music sank lower and lower, until it died away in a whisper. The boy ceased singing and opening his eyes gazed about him. Here and there he imagined he heard a slight rustle in the leaves, but the gray panther was gone. The frisking rabbits and the capering wolves had vanished. The red and gray foxes, the awkward bears and the rest of that frolicking throng had melted back into the shadows. So far as he could peer into the dim forest he was alone with his faithful friend.
"Oh, the wind blows cold and the wind blows raw,When the night comes on in the Arkansaw—Yes, the wind blows cold and the snow will fall.And Bosephus and Horatio must travel through it all."
THE little boy's voice quavered as he sang, and his teeth chattered. It had been more than two months since he started on his travels with Horatio, and the October nights, even in southern Arkansaw, were beginning to be chilly. The night before he had in some way got separated from his friend's warm furry coat and woke shivering. He kindled a fire now, singing as he worked, while Horatio touched the chords of his violin pensively. He did not feel the cold. Nature was providing him with his winter furs.
"Bo," he said presently, "you'll have to have some heavier clothes. Either that or we'll have to go farther South. As for me, you know, I could go to sleep in a hollow tree and not mind the winter, but you couldn't do it, and I don't intend to, either, this year; we're making too much money for that."
Bo laughed in spite of the cold and jingled his pockets. They were more than half full of coin, and he had a good roll of bills in his jacket besides.
"No," he said; "we are getting along too well. We'll be rich by spring if we keep right on. I'm thinking, though, that we'll never be able to get South fast enough if we walk."
"Look here, Bo; you're not thinking about putting me on that cyclone thing they call a train, are you?"
"Well, not exactly, but yesterday where we performed I heard a fellow say that there was a river right close here, and steamboats. You wouldn't mind a steamboat, would you, Ratio?"
"Of course not. I don't mind anything. I've always wanted to ride on one of those trains, only I knew the people would be frightened at me, and as for a steamboat, why, if I should meet a steamboat coming down the road—"
"But steamboats don't come down the roads, Ratio; they go on the water."
"Water! Water that you drink, and drown things in?"
"Of course! And if the boat goes down we'll be drowned, too."
Horatio struck a few notes on the violin before replying.
"Bo," he said presently, "you're a friend of mine, aren't you? A true friend?"
"Yes, Ratio, you know I am."
"Well, then, don't you go on one of those boats. It would grieve me terribly if anything should happen to you. I might not be able to save you, Bo, and then think how lonely I should be." And Horatio put one paw to his eyes and sobbed.
"Oh, pshaw, Ratio! Why, I can swim like everything. I'm not afraid."
"But you couldn't save us both, Bo—I mean, we both couldn't save the fiddle—it would get wet. Think—think of the fiddle, Bo!"
The fire was burning brightly by this time and the little boy was getting warm. He laughed and rubbed his hands and began to sing:—
"Oh, we're going down the river on a great big boat,And Horatio's so excited he can hardly play a note,For he never liked the water and he never learned to swim,And he thinks if he goes sailing now his chances will be slim."
Horatio stopped short and snorted angrily.
"I want you to understand," he said, sharply, "that I'm not afraid of anything. You'll please remember that night when the forest people danced and you thought your time had come, how I saved you by making you sing. There's nothing I fear. Why if—"
But what Horatio was about to say will never be known, for at that moment there came such a frightful noise as neither of them had ever heard before. It came from everywhere at once, and seemed to fill all the sky and set the earth to trembling. It was followed by two or three fierce snorts and a dazzling gleam of light through the trees. The little boy was startled, and as for the Bear, he gave one wild look and fled. In his fright he did not notice a small shrub, and, tripping over it, he fell headlong into a clump of briars, where he lay, groaning dismally that he was killed and that the world was coming to an end.
Suddenly Bosephus gave a shout of laughter.
"Get up, Ratio," he called, "it's our steamboat! We're right near the river and didn't know it. They're landing, too, and we can go right aboard."
The groaning ceased and there was a labored movement among the briars.
Presently Horatio crept out, very much crestfallen, and picked up the violin, which in his haste he had dropped.
"Bo," he said, sheepishly, "I never told you about it before, but I am subject to fits. I had one just then. They come on suddenly that way. All my family have them and act strangely at times. I'm sure you don't think for a moment that I was frightened just now."
HE FELL HEADLONG.HE FELL HEADLONG.
"Oh, no, of course not. You merely picked out that briar patch as a good place to have a fit in. Do you always think theworld's coming to an end when you are taken that way?"
"We'll go right aboard, Bo; you are a little timid, no doubt, so I'll lead the way." And Horatio stepped out briskly toward the lights and voices and the landing steamer.
A few steps brought them out to the river bank and a full view of the boat that had crept silently around a bend to the woodyard, where it was halting to take on fuel. The gang plank had not been pushed out to the bank as yet, but a white ray of light shot from a small window to the dark shore and looked exactly like a narrow board. The boy and the Bear were both deceived by it, and Horatio in his eagerness to show his bravery did not pause to investigate.
"Take the fiddle, Bo," he said, loftily, "and I'll show you how to get on a boat. You should always be brave, Bosephus."
Bosephus took the instrument and Horatio, with arms extended as a balance, stepped straight out into nothing and vanished. There was a sudden splash, a growl, a scrambling sound in the shallow water and Horatio's head appeared above the bank. Bosephus, at first frightened, was now doubled with laughter.
"Oh, Ratio," he gasped, "how funny of you to try to walk on a moonbeam!"
Horatio shook himself and sniffed angrily. A wide gang plank was now being lowered from the boat, and as it touched the bank the boy stepped quickly aboard, followed by the wet, shambling Bear.
"Oh, there was an Old Bear on a dark, dark night,Who tried to walk on a beam of light,"
sang Bo, as he crossed the plank,
"But the beam wouldn't hold and the Bear broke through,And now Horatio follows, as Horatio ought to do."
"Hello!" called a voice. "Where did you come from?"
Bo looked up and saw a brawny man with a group of wondering negroes behind him.
"We are travelling," said Bo, "and we want to go down the river. We can pay our way and will make music for you, too."
"Good boy," said the mate. "Go right up and report to the clerk, then come back down here, and after we get this wood loaded we'll give you some supper and you can give us a show."
On the upper deck the few passengers gathered around and made much of the arrivals. All asked questions at once, and Bo answered as best he could. Horatio kept silent—he never talked except when he was alone with Bo. The boy kept his hand on the Bear's head, and when the boat backed away and puffed down stream he felt his big friend tremble, but a little later, when they had had a good supper, Ratio's fear passed off, and on the lower deck, where all hands collected, the friends gave an entertainment that not only won for them free passage down the river, but a good collection besides. It was far in the night when the performance ended. The officers, passengers and crew kept calling for more, and the travellers were anxious to accommodate them. The negroes went wild over the music, and patted and danced crazily whenever Horatio played. Finally Bo sang a good night song:—
Music 1st Line
"Now, we've had a lot of music, and we've had some supper, too,And we're sailing down the river in a little steam canoe,
Music 2nd Line
And we love to be obliging with our music, but it seemsThat we ought to go a-sailing to the land of pleasant dreams.
THE NEGROES WENT WILD OVER THE MUSIC.THE NEGROES WENT WILD OVER THE MUSIC.
THE LITTLE BOY WAS IN THE LAND OF DREAMS.THE LITTLE BOY WAS IN THE LAND OF DREAMS.
Music 3rd Line
And I must not fail to mention we enjoy your kind attention,And the favors you have shown to us have filled us with delight,
Music 4th Line
And to-morrow we will play for you and sing our songs so gay for you,But now you will excuse us if we say—good—night."
Bosephus and Horatio were both offered staterooms on the upper deck, but Horatio preferred to sleep outside, and the little boy said he would sleep there also. Horatio sat up for some moments after Bo had stretched himself to rest, looking at the dark wooded banks and the starlight on the water behind them.
"Bo," he said, at last, "we are going to see the world now, sure enough."
"Yes, Ratio," was the sleepy answer.
"Bo, do you suppose our camp fire is still burning back yonder?"
No answer.
"I hate to leave old Arkansaw, don't you, Bo?"
But the little boy was in the land of dreams.
"Sailing down the river so early in the morn,Sailing down the river so early in the morn,Sailing down the river so early in the morn,Never was so happy since the day that I was born."
THE boat on which Horatio and Bosephus had taken their passage made no landings during the night, and the little boy and the big Bear slept soundly on the deck together. Rather too soundly, as will be seen later. At daybreak the next morning Bosephus was wide awake, singing softly and watching through the mist the queer forms of the cypress trees, with the long Spanish moss swinging from the limbs. Horatio, hearing the singing, rubbed his eyes and sat up. He had never been so far South before, so the scenery was new to both of them, and when they came to open spaces and saw that the shores were only a few inches higher than the river and that fields of waving green came right to the water's edge they were both pleased and surprised at this new world. The climate had changed, too, and the air was warm and spring-like.
"I tell you, Bo," said Horatio grandly, "there's nothing like travel. You're a lucky boy, Bo, to fall in with me. Why, the way you've come out in the last few months is wonderful. Of course, there is a good deal of room yet for improvement, and there are still some things that you are rather timid of, but when I remember how you looked the first minute I saw you, and then to see the sociable way you sit up and talk to me now, youreally don't seem like the same boy, Bosephus, you really don't."
The little boy leaned up close to his companion.
"Oh, there was a little boy and his name was Bo,"
he sang softly, remembering their first meeting.
"Went out into the woods when the moon was low,"
added the Bear, strumming lightly the strings of the violin.
"And he met an Old Bear that was hungry for a snack,And the folks are still awaiting for Bosephus to come back."
they continued together in a half whisper.
"Ratio," said the little boy, confidentially, "did you really intend to—to have me—you know, Ratio—for—for supper until I taught you the tune? Did you, Ratio?"
Horatio gazed away across a broad cane field, where the first streak of sunrise was beginning to show.
"For the boy became the teacher of the kind and gentle creatureWho could play upon the fiddle in a very skilful way,"
he sang dreamily, and then both together once more:—
"Now he'll never, never leave him, and he'll never, never grieve him,And we're singing here together at the break—of—day."
"This is very pleasant travelling," commented Horatio thoughtfully. "It beats walking, at least for speed and comfort. Of course, there are a number of places we cannot reach by boat," he added, regretfully.
"Not in Southern Louisiana, Ratio. I've heard that there's a regular tangle of rivers and bayous all over the country, and that boats go everywhere."
Horatio looked pleased.
"Aren't you glad now, Bo," he said proudly, "that I proposed this boat business? I have always wanted to travel this way. I was afraid at first that you might not take to it verywell, and when that whistle blew last night I could see that you were frightened. It was unfortunate that I should have had a fit just then or I might have calmed you. You saw how anxious I was to go aboard. Of course, in being over brave I made a slight mistake. I am always that way. All my family are. One really ought to be less reckless about some things, but somehow none of my family ever knew what fear was. We——"
But just then the boat concluded to land, and the morning stillness was torn into shreds by its frightful whistle. Horatio threw up both hands and fell backward on the deck, where he lay pawing the air wildly. Then he stuffed his paws into his ears and howled as he kicked with his hind feet. Bo stood over him and shouted that there was no danger, but his voice made no sound in that awful thunder. All at once Horatio sprang up and jammed his head under Bo's arm, trembling like a jellyfish. Then the noise stopped, and with one or two more hoarse shouts ceased entirely.
"It's all right, Ratio, come out!" said Bo, trying to stop laughing.
Horatio felt of his ears a moment to see that they were still there, while he looked skittishly in the direction of the dreadful whistle and started violently at the quick snorts of the escaping steam.
"Bo," he said faintly, "do all boats do that?"
"Oh, yes! Some worse than others. This one isn't very bad."
"I'm sorry, Bo, for it is a great drawback to travel where one is subject to fits as I am. It seems to bring them on. And it is not kind of you to laugh at my affliction, either, Bosephus," he added, for Bo had dropped down on the deck, where he was rolling and holding his sides.
HE STUFFED HIS PAWS INTO HIS EARS.HE STUFFED HIS PAWS INTO HIS EARS.
All at once the boy lay perfectly still. Then he sprang upwith every bit of laugh gone out of his face. His left hand grasped the outside of his jacket, while with his right hand he dived down into the inside pocket like mad. The Bear watched him anxiously.
"What is it, Bo? Have you got one, too?" he asked.
"Horatio!" gasped the boy. "Our money! It's gone!"
"Gone! Gone! Where?"
"Stolen. Some of those niggers did it while we were asleep!"
The Bear reflected a moment. Then he said thoughtfully:—
"Do you suppose, Bo, it was that nice fat one?"
"I shouldn't wonder a bit. I saw him watch every penny I took in last night."
Horatio licked out his tongue eagerly.
"Could I have him if it was?" he asked hungrily.
"Have him! How?" said Bo. Then he shuddered. "Oh! no, not that way—of course not. But I'll tell you, Ratio," he added, "we'll make him believe that you can, and frighten him into giving up the money."
Horatio frowned.
"I don't like make-believes," he grumbled. "Can't we let the money go this time and not have any make-believe?"
"Not much—we want that money right now, before the boat lands; then we'll go ashore and get out of such a crowd. Come, Ratio."
No one was stirring on the upper deck as yet, but the crew was collected below where the second mate was shouting orders as the boat swung slowly into the bank. They boy and Bear dashed down the stairs.
"OUR MONEY! IT IS GONE!""OUR MONEY! IT IS GONE!"
"Wait!" shouted Bo to the officer. "Somebody on this boat last night stole our money, and I want my Bear to findhim. It won't take but a minute, for he can tell a thief at sight when he's mad and hungry, and he's mad now, and hungry for dark meat!" The boy looked straight into the crowd of negroes, while the Bear growled fiercely and fixed his eye on the fat darky.
The crew fell back and the fat darky with a howl started to run.
"That's the one! That's the thief!" shouted Bo, and with a snarl Horatio bounded away in pursuit. Down the narrow gangway to the stern of the boat, then in a circle around a lot of cotton, they ran like mad, the Bear getting closer to the negro every minute. Then back again to the bow in a straight stretch, the thief blue with fright and Horatio's eyes shining with hungry anticipation. The rest of the crew looked on and cheered. Suddenly, as the fat darky passed Bo, he jerked a sack from his pocket and flung it behind him.
"Dar's yo' money! Dar's yo' money!" he shouted. "Call off yo' B'ar!"
But that was not so easy. Bosephus shouted frantically at Horatio, but he did not seem to hear. His blood was up, and his taste for dark meat was stronger than his love of money. As the two came clattering around the second time he was so close to his prey that with a quick swipe he got quite a piece of his shirt. With a wild yell the fat fugitive leaped over into the river and struck out for shore.
Horatio paused. His half open jaws were dripping and his eyes red and fiery with disappointment. Bo went up to him gently.
"Come, Ratio," he whispered.
The Bear paid no heed. He was watching his escaped prey, who had reached the shore and was disappearing in a great canefield.
THE FAT FUGITIVE LEAPED OVER INTO THE RIVER.THE FAT FUGITIVE LEAPED OVER INTO THE RIVER.
"Come!" Bo whispered again. "We'll go ashore, too."
Horatio wheeled eagerly. The gangplank was being lowered, and he hurried Bo out on it, so that when it touched the bank he was all ready to give chase again.
"No, wait; some music first," said Bo. "I have thought of some new lines for the second part of the tune."
For a moment Horatio hesitated. Then the temptation of the music was stronger even than his appetite, and, throwing his violin into position, he began to play. The passengers, roused by the excitement, had gathered on the upper deck. The crew coming ashore below paused to listen.
Music 1st Line
"Oh! there was a fat darky with an appetite for wealth,And the only way to get it was to capture it by stealth,
Music 2nd Line
But when it came to keep it, his chances were so small,He concluded that he really didn't care for it at all.
Music 3rd Line
For we placed him and we faced him, and my bear Horatio chased him—In a manner most surprising he pursued him to and fro—
Music 4th Line
And we hope we do not grieve you, but we feel that we must leave you,For the Southern sun is rising, and we're bound—to—go."
The crew cheered and the passengers on the upper deck shouted and waved their handkerchiefs.
"Don't go!" they called. "Don't leave us!" But the friends turned their faces to the East and set out on a broad white road that led away to the sunrise.
Music 1st Line
"Rooster in de chicken coop crowin' foh day,Horses in de stable goin' 'Nay, nay, nay!'
Music 2nd Line
Ducks in de yard goin' 'Quack, quack, quack!'Guineas in de tree tops goin' 'Rack-pot-rack!'"
DURING the two weeks since they had come to the land of sugar-cane Horatio and Bosephus had learned some of the old negro songs of Louisiana and sang them to their own music. They were doing so now as they marched along the bank of a quiet bayou, where the blue grass came to the water's edge and the long Spanish moss from big live oak trees swung down twenty feet or more till it almost touched the water. They had had a good day and were going to camp.
"Bo," said the Bear presently, "we are doing well. We are making money, Bo."
"Fifty dollars since we left the boat," said the little boy.
"These fat babies—little darky babies—are very amusing, too, Bosephus, don't you think so?" Horatio added, nodding in the direction of some they were just then passing.
"THESE LITTLE DARKEY BABIES ARE VERY—AMUSING.""THESE LITTLE DARKEY BABIES ARE VERY—AMUSING."
"I notice that you think so," said Bo, dryly. "If you'll take my advice, though, you won't show any special fondness for them. People might not understand your ways, you know, andbesides," he added, with a grin, "I've heard say these darkies down here are mighty fond of bear meat, and there's such a lot of them——"
"Don't you mention it, Bo; I never dreamed of such a thing as you are hinting at."
"Well, you said you were dreaming yesterday when we met that little darky boy, and you nearly tore the jacket off of him before I could wake you up with a club."
Horatio drew his bow hastily across the strings and began singing—
Music 3rd Line
"Keemo, kimo, kilgo, kayro,Horses in de stable goin' 'Nay, nay, nay!'
Music 4th Line
Rop strop, periwinkle, little yaller nigger,Cum a rop strop bottle till the break of day."
The sun was just setting behind a large, white, old fashioned sugar house, where the bayou turned, and made it look like an ancient castle. The little boy sighed. He had never believed that any country could be so beautiful as this, and he wanted to stay in it forever. Horatio liked it, too. They had played and danced at many of the sugar houses, and the Bear had been given everywhere all the waste sugar he could eat. He was fond of the green cane also, and was nearly always chewing a piece when they were not busy with a performance. But the big fellow had never quite overcome his old savage nature, and the race on the steamboat had roused it more fiercely than ever. The fat pickaninnies were a constant temptation to him, and it had taken all Bo's watchfulness to keep him out of dreadful mischief. Bo never feared for himself. Horatio loved him andhad even become afraid of him. It was for Horatio that he feared, for he knew that death would be sure and swift if one of the pickaninnies was even so much as scratched, not to mention anything worse that might happen. Again the little boy sighed as they turned into a clean grassy place and made ready for camp.
Long after Bosephus was asleep Horatio sat by the dying camp fire, thinking. By and by he rose and walked out to the bank of the bayou and looked toward the sugar house that lay white in the moonlight, half a mile away. Then he went back to where Bo was asleep and picked up the violin. Then he laid it down again, as though he had changed his mind, and slipped away through the shadows in the direction of the old sugar house. He said to himself that, as they were going in that direction and would stop there next day, he might as well see how the road went and what kind of a place it was. He did not own, even to himself, that it was the negro cabins and fat pickaninnies that were in his mind, and that down in his heart was a wicked and savage purpose. Every little way he paused and seemed about to turn back, but he kept on. By and by he drew near the sugar house and saw the double row of whitewashed huts in the moonlight. It was later than he had supposed and the crowds of little darkies that were usually playing outside had gone to bed. He sighed and was about to turn back when suddenly he saw something capering about near the shed of the sugar house. He slipped up nearer and a fierce light came into his eyes. It was a little negro boy doing a hoo-doo dance in the moonlight.
HE SLIPPED AWAY THROUGH THE SHADOWS.HE SLIPPED AWAY THROUGH THE SHADOWS.
Suddenly the little fellow turned and saw the Bear glaring at him. Horatio was between him and the cabins. The boy gave one wild shriek and dashed through a small open door that led into the blackness of the sugar house, the Bear followingclose behind. It was one of the old Creole sugar houses where the syrup is poured out into open vessels to cool and harden. The little darky knew his way and Horatio didn't. He stumbled and fell, and growled and tried to follow the flying shadow that was skipping and leaping and begging, "Oh, Mars Debbil! Oh, please, Mars Debbil, lemme go dis time, an' I nevah do so no mo'. Nevah do no mo' hoo-doo, Mars Debbil; oh, please, Mars Debbil, lemme go!"
But Horatio was getting closer and closer and in another moment would seize him. Then, suddenly, something happened. The Bear stumbled and, half falling, stepped into one of the big shallow wooden vessels. He felt his hind feet break through something like crusted ice and sink a foot or more into a heavy, thick substance below. When he tried to lift them they only sank deeper. Then he knew what was the matter. He had stepped into a mass of hardening sugar and was a prisoner! His forefeet were free, but he dared not struggle with them for fear of getting them fast, too. The little darky, who thought the devil had stopped to rest, was huddled together in a corner not daring to move. Horatio remembered Bo sleeping safely in their camp and began to weep for his own wickedness. In the morning men would come with axes and guns. Why had he not heeded Bo? Half seated on the crusted sugar he gave himself up to sorrow and despair.
It was early morning when Bo awoke. He was surprised to see that Horatio was not beside him, for the boy was usually first awake. He called loudly. Then, as the moments passed and the Bear did not come, he grew uneasy. Suddenly a terrible suspicion flashed over him. He sprang to his feet and seizing the violin that lay beside him set forth on a run in the direction of the white sugar house. He knew Horatio would gothere because it was nearest, and he felt certain that something dreadful had happened. The incident of the day before made him almost sure of Horatio's errand, and he feared the worst. No doubt they had caught and killed him by this time, and what would he do now without his faithful friend?