thank him for the service he has rendered
us."

We went round to the stables, where we found Dio, who was grooming the
horses. My father, finding that no one else was present, put several
dollars into his hand.

"That's no return, my friend, for the brave way in which you risked your
life to save ours," he said; "but I have nothing else except my bare
thanks to give you. You must remember, however, that I wish always to
remain your friend, and if I have the power, to repay you in a more
substantial manner."

"Dis black boy no want any reward," answered Dio, offering to return the
money.

My father, however, pressed it on him, and without much difficulty
induced him to keep it. As soon as breakfast was over, the horses were
brought round. I believe that my mother made a present to Mammy Coe of
the gayest article of dress she possessed, which she guessed would be
far more welcome than money.

Our host treated us with but scant courtesy as we took our departure.

"Just tell Denis O'Dwyer, if you find him alive, that you saw me, and
that I hope to liquor up with him next time I go his way."

My father thanked him for his hospitality, but he made no reply, and
turning on his heel, re-entered his house. We found Dio, who had run
on, waiting for us out of sight of the house. He waved his hand, but
said nothing.

Eager to reach Uncle Denis's farm, my father drove on as fast as the
horses could trot over the rough track. We had to endure the same
amount of bumping and jolting as on the previous day. My poor mother's
anxiety increased as we approached my uncle's farm. We met with no one
who could give us any information. Since the fearful danger we had been
in, she had become much more nervous than was her wont, and consequently
could not help expecting to hear the worst. Great was her joy,
therefore, when, on driving up to the door, who should we see but Uncle
Denis himself seated in the porch, smoking a cigar.

"I'm glad to see you, sister," he said, "but Doctor O'Dowd had no
business to frighten you. He is always so accustomed to kill his
patients that he fancies they are all going to die under his hand, and
faith, it's no fault of his if they get well."

My uncle's appearance, however, showed that he had gone through a severe
illness. He was still too weak to walk without assistance, but his
indomitable spirit, my father observed, had done much to keep him up;
our coming also was of great assistance,