bent over it absorbed, sniffing the savory steam which presently came up
from it. Meanwhile the two men were skulking about among the trees,
watching, yet not coming near,--"at their usual work of waiting," as the
Captain said.

"Proper enough, too, let 'em wait. Waiting's their business. Now,"
taking off his tin and looking towards them, "what d'ye s'pose those
anemiles want? Pity the boat hadn't tipped over before they got here.
Camp's overrun now with just such scoots. Here, you!" he called.

The men came near. "Where'd you come from?"

One of them pointed back to the boat, seen dimly on the sand.

"Was that you howling a while ago, 'Roll Jordan,' or something?"

"Yes, massa."

"And where did you come from?--no, you needn't look back there again,--I
mean, where did you and the boat too come from?"

"Come from Mass' George Wingate's place, massa."

"Far from here?"

"Big way, massa."

"What brought you here? what did you come for?"

"If you please, massa, 'cause the Linkum sojers was yere, an' de big
guns, an' we yearde dat all our people's free when dey gets yere."

"Free! what'll such fellows as you do with freedom, hey?"

The two looked at their interrogator, then at one another, opened their
mouths as to speak, and shut them hopelessly,--unable to put into words
that which was struggling in their darkened brains,--and then with a
laugh, a laugh that sounded woefully like a sob, answered, "Dunno,
massa."

"What fools!" cried Jim, angrily; but the Captain, who was watching them
keenly, thought of a line he had once read, "There is a laughter sadder
than tears." "True enough,--poor devils!" he added to himself.

"Are you hungry?" Jim proceeded.

"I hope massa don't think we's come yere for to git suthin' to eat,"
said the smaller of the two, a little, thin, haggard-looking
fellow,--"we's no beggars. Some ob de darkies is, but we's not dem
kind,--Jim an' me,--we's willin' to work, ain't we, Jim?"

"Jim!" soliloquized Given,--"my name, hey? we'll take a squint at this
fellow."

The squint showed two impoverished-looking wretches, with a starved look
in their eyes, which he did not comprehend, and a starved look in their
faces and forms, which he did.

"Come, now, are you hungry?" he queried once more.

"If ye please, massa," began the little one who was spokesman,--'little
folks always are gas-bags,' Jim was fond of saying from his six feet of
height,--"if ye please, massa, we's had nothin' to