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

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

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

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

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

The calm water bears sound to a great distance.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

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

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

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

"No; he bites."

"Oh, he won't bite me," said