, 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 Po