brought in by several black slaves.

"We will have your people in," said the French gentleman. "You will not
object to their sitting at table, for I cannot ask them to join the
black slaves."

"Certainly not," said Mr Collinson; "though I do not believe they would
object to that. Probably, indeed, they would be happier by themselves."

However, the Frenchman insisted that they should come in. The boys'
eyes sparkled as they found themselves seated at the table, for it was
seldom or never they had seen so fine a repast.

"Won't I have a good tuck-out!" said Tommy Rebow, as he eyed the viands.
"In case our nigger-guards should be inclined to starve us, we may as
well take in enough to last for some days."

All hands did ample justice, as may be supposed, to the repast, the
black soldiers being fed, in the mean time, in another part of the
house.

At length the sergeant of the party appeared at the door, and summoned
his prisoners.

"I have not asked your name," said Mr Collinson, turning to his host.
"I should like to remember one of whom I shall always think with
gratitude."

"My name is Mouret, and my daughter's name is Adele; but don't suppose
that I shall lose sight of you. Every influence I possess with the
authorities I will exert in your favour, though I fear that is not very
great."

The sergeant becoming impatient, the English party had to take a hurried
farewell.

"Good-bye, monsieur; much obliged for your good dinner!" cried Jack
Windy, as Monsieur Mouret kindly shook him and his companions by the
hand. "We will not forget you, and be sure to give you a call, if we
come this way again."

The party were once more on their road.

"Here, sir, the nigger servant gave us these bundles to look after,"
said Jack. "They're our duds, I suppose. One is yours, sir, and the
rest ours."

"Take care of them," said Mr Collinson. "They may be useful to show
who we are, should there be any doubt about the matter."

They pushed on till it was dark, as fast as the negro soldiers could
march, the sergeant being anxious, apparently, to make up for the time
they had spent at Monsieur Mouret's house. They reached a village at
length, where he told them they must stop.

"Is there an inn to which we can go?" asked Mr Collinson.

The negro grinned.

"No, monsieur," he answered; "but quarters will be assigned to you."

After being kept waiting for some time, the sergeant, who had gone away,
returned, and