across. Quickly loosening the "Baby Mine" to
let her drift along with the current, he unslung the large hunting knife
and started for the deer with the intention of bleeding it. He
anticipated no trouble in paddling alongside while it was swimming, and
putting the knife into its throat. When the buck discovered the pursuer
it redoubled its efforts to reach the shore, but Paul was faster and was
soon close on the antlered beauty. As he raised the knife to stab, the
deer also raised and struck viciously with its front feet, and Paul
barely dodged the blow which would have cut through the rubber suit like
a keen edged knife. Again and again did he try to get an opening for a
thrust, and as often did the deer, with eyes blazing like a
panther's, beat him away with its sharp hoofs. At last Boyton concluded
to follow if to the edge of the river, where he felt sure his game would
sink in the mud and then become an easy victim. The animal did stick in
the mud as was expected, but as Boyton was about to stab, its feet
struck a bit of log so small that its four hoofs were all bunched
together on it; but thus hampered, it sprang with wonderful power,
landed on the bank six feet above, and galloped off into the forest,
waving Paul a farewell with its white, stumpy tail.

That night he arrived at Arkansas City, very tired after his long pull.
It was there he ran across a silent admirer--an extraordinary character
who appointed himself Boyton's body guard. All that night he sat and
watched the voyager while he slept. He put wood on when the fire
burned low and whenever Paul wakened he was at his bedside with a drink
of hot tea, but never uttering a word. Next morning he assisted in
the dressing and when leaving, he wrung the Captain's hand as though
parting with his dearest friend; yet he hadn't a word to say, nor
would he accept any recompense for his services.

A short distance below Arkansas City, a blast from Paul's bugle brought
a troop of negroes to the bank. As they gazed on him in open mouthed
wonder, he asked them the distance to the next place; but they were so
overcome either with fright or astonishment they could not answer. One
old auntie, however, leaned over the bank and in a trembling voice
asked:

"Chile, does yo' belong to the chu'ch?"

She drew a sigh of relief and seemed satisfied that he was a human being
when he answered, "yes."

A lonely run of one hundred and forty miles br