s over which he bent his head; dead now to every honorable
hope, worse than useless to his kind, a hunted outcast, a mass of
decaying matter, kept alive only by the fiery hope of vengeance that
burnt within. The ruffian had hitherto been faithful, and procured
Hunter those necessaries that he could not venture in quest of himself,
for he was a deserter from that service, which kidnaps men to do its
work, and hunts down the poor slaves when they escape, even in the land
whose inhabitants are singing, 'Britons ever will be free.' Bitter,
mockery of freedom. Curly Tom now held up his hand, and cautiously the
officers emerged from their hiding place, slowly they came forward,
anticipating an easy capture; they were mistaken. The opiate, as it
frequently does on excitable natures, had only partially stupefied him,
and the first effect wearing off, it now began to act as a
stimulant;--the officers had traversed about half the distance to the
rock on which Hunter's head reclined, when he started up and looked
wildly around him,--for a moment he seemed stupefied, and passed his
hand before his face as if to assure himself he was not dreaming--the
officers rushed forward. He saw it all now,--he drew a pistol, but Curly
Tom threw his long arms round him,--too late to prevent the explosion,
however. The ball whizzed by the side of the foremost officer, and
struck the agent in the leg--he fell. Curly Tom possessed more strength
than his lank figure promised,--but Hunter, thoroughly sobered by his
danger; tore his hold away, and striking the ruffian a tremendous blow
with the butt end of the discharged pistol, felled him to the
ground,--and snatching a knife from the rock close at hand, stabbed the
foremost officer to the heart,--he fell with a heavy groan, and the next
moment the remaining officer, a man of herculean strength had closed
upon him. Terrible was now the struggle--the officer had dexterously
struck the knife from his hand as he closed with him, but he could not
draw his pistols. Locked in each other's grasp they wrestled together
for life: each one well knew that death would be the lot of the
vanquished,--the officer burning to revenge his comrade's death:--Hunter
struggling for life and his cherished vengeance. Gradually they
approached the spot where the agent sat watching the conflict with
terrible anxiety, so absorbing as to make him forgetful of the pain of
his wound; here, by a tremendous effort the officer succeed