n we
heard the loud talking, just as the man slammed the doors in going out.
We could have done nothing more than order him out."

After tea we boys went into the kitchen again, leaving our tutors
playing at chess, which Mr Clare was trying to teach Captain Mugford.
That kitchen was a favourite resort of ours in the evenings, and Clump
and Juno liked to have us there. There was a famous fire--three or four
fresh logs singing over a red mass of coal; plenty of ashes; and a
whistled tune with a jet of smoke right from the heart of each stick.
The brass fire-dogs were extra bright, reflecting the blaze on all
sides. Some chestnuts and potatoes were roasting in the ashes, and
Clump had provided some cider to treat us to, this last night of ours on
the cape. So we pulled our chairs close around the fire, Clump sitting
at one end, almost inside the chimney-place, smoking his pipe, and Juno
at the other end, also almost inside the chimney-place, and smoking,
too, her pipe. Hi! How they grinned, and chatted, and smoked. After
awhile, when we had had a full hour of real fun, quizzing the old folks,
telling stories, eating chestnuts and potatoes, drinking cider, and
listening to stories of the West Indies, Walter and Harry got up to
clean their guns.

"Wen you'se cum 'ere nudder time, 'spect dese ole black folks be gwine
'way--be gwine 'crost de ribber Jordan?"--exclaimed Juno, with a long
sigh.

"Now, don't talk in that way," said Harry; "why, marm Juno, you and
Clump will live to dance at my wedding; see if you don't; and now, Juno,
just give us a kettle of hot water, will you, to rinse out these
gun-barrels with."

When the guns were washed, dried, and rubbed off with oil, I said to
Clump, "Have you got any bullets or buckshot?"

"Don't know, Massa Bob--'spects so, en my ole tool-box."

"Why," asked Drake, "what are you going to do, Bob, with bullets and
buckshot?"

Clump was down on his knees in the closet, overhauling the tool-box he
had spoken of.

"Well, Drake, I'll tell you if Clump finds the articles," I answered.

"Have you got any, Clump?"

"Yah, Massa, 'ere's a han'ful."

"These bullets and buckshot," I continued, "are for Walter and Harry to
load their guns with; for, just as sure as that fellow came here this
afternoon, just so sure, I believe, he will be back here before morning
with more like him."

"What stuff," sang out Walter, laughing; "what puts that in your head,
Bob?"

"I don't know