for one of the best men that ever
lived!"

They were hurrying on the next moment, nor did they stop until they had
put six or seven miles between themselves and the Buckley home. The sun,
directly away from which they had been moving, was now shining brightly in
the heavens, as it looked down benevolently upon the well-soaked earth.
They had now reached a plantation of some two hundred acres or more, in
the centre of which was a low, long brick house with a white portico in
front. They quickly passed from the roadway into the place, and moved up
an avenue of magnolia trees. When they reached the portico a lazy looking
negro came shuffling out of the front door. He gazed, in a supercilious
fashion, at the two whites and the dog.

"Wha' foah you fellows gwine come heh foah?" he demanded, in a rich,
pleasant voice, but with an unwelcome scowl upon his face.

"We just want a little breakfast," answered Watson. He was holding the
boy's arm, and looked the picture of a blind mendicant.

The darky gave them a scornful glance. "Git away from heh, yoh white
trash," he commanded. "We doan want no beggars 'round heh!"

Watson was about to flare up angrily, at the impudent tone of this order,
but when he thought of the wretched appearance which he and George
presented he was not surprised at the coolness of their reception. For not
only were their clothes remarkable to look upon, but they were without
hats. Even Waggie seemed a bedraggled little vagabond.

But George rose valiantly to the occasion. He began to sing "Old Folks at
Home," in a clear sweet voice, and, when he had finished, he gave a
spirited rendition of "Dixie." When "Dixie" was over he made a signal to
Waggie, who walked up and down the pathway on his hind legs with a comical
air of pride.

The expression of the pompous negro had undergone a great change. His
black face was wreathed in smiles; his eyes glistened with delight; his
large white teeth shone in the morning light like so many miniature
tombstones.

"Ya! ya! ya!" he laughed. "Doan go way. Ya! ya! Look at de dog! Ho! ho!"

He reentered the house, but was soon back on the portico. With him came a
handsome middle-aged man, evidently the master of the house, and a troop
of children. They were seven in all, four girls and three boys, and they
ranged in ages all the way from five to seventeen years.

No sooner did he see them than George began another song--"Nicodemus, the
Slave." This he followed by