to drift past it. Besides, the danger
of being run down was now greater than ever. So the boy took to his
oars, and began to pull in the direction from which the loudest sound
of whistles appeared to come.

Suddenly he was hailed. "Look out dar, boss!"

"Hold on!" shouted Winn. "I am in trouble, and will give you a dollar
to pilot me ashore."

A skiff came alongside. It contained but a single occupant, a negro,
who appeared nearly as old as Solon. He listened with open-mouthed
wonder to the boy's hurriedly told story, and not only expressed a
ready sympathy, but promised to have "de young gen'l'man an' der lilly
lady lamb on de sho' in free minutes. Ole Clod, him know de way. De
frog can't fool him on desh yer ribber."

With renewed hope Winn followed closely behind his dusky pilot, and in
another minute caught sight of the welcome land. It was East St.
Louis, on the Illinois side of the river, at that time a great railroad
terminus, and Clod's little cabin stood at the edge of high-water-mark;
for he was a boatman, and gained his living from the river.

"Now, young marse, you mus' come up to my house, whar my ole 'oman
fixin' de lilly gal all right in no time." So saying, the negro lifted
Sabella in his strong arms and started towards his cabin, to which Winn
was only too glad to follow him. The boy had never felt so utterly
helpless and forlorn.

He no longer thought of taking matters into his own hands, but was
thankful to accept even the humble guidance of this negro. Under the
circumstances he could not have fallen into better hands. Not only was
Clod strong, willing, and possessed of a shrewd knowledge gained by
rough experience, but his "ole 'oman," Aunt Viney, a motherly soul of
ample proportions, was accounted the best all-round nurse of the
neighborhood. She was never happier than when bustling about in a
service like the present; and within five minutes Sabella was nestled
in the snowy centre of a huge bed, with Aunt Viney crooning over her
like a brooding tenderness, and rapidly restoring the color to the
child's pallid cheeks.

At the same time Winn was sitting by the kitchen stove in a cloud of
steam from his own wet clothing, absorbing warmth and comfort, and
relating his adventures at length to the sympathetic old man.

Clod's interest and wonder at the boy's story were shown by uplifted
hands, rolling eyes, and such ejaculations as "How yo' talk, chile!"
"Well, I nebber!" "Dat'