sions of scratching hens. Here he busied himself in
planting lettuce seed, forgetful of Scipio, who lolled sleepily in the
shadow of the willows.

The drowsy bondman was just sinking into slumber, when his attention
was aroused by a plashing noise followed by the sound of whistling.
Glancing in the direction of the disturbance, his eyes fell upon the
ungainly figure of a man who was stooping at the water's edge. The
negro got upon his feet, and approached the stranger, who at first
took no notice of him, being absorbed in puzzled observation. A cut of
lean meat, encircled by a row of stones, lay immersed in a pool caused
by an eddy in the river.

"Danged if I can make out what this hunk of raw beef is put here for,"
soliloquized the visitor. "The minnies are nibblin' it away. I wonder
if this here Mr. Bladderhatchet means to feed all the fish in the Ohio
on beefsteak. Hello, Cuffey, what do _you_ want?"

"I's not Cuffey, sah; I's Scipio."

"Well, I's Byle, Plutarch Byle," said the stranger, raising his gaunt,
gawky figure to a posture which, though far from erect, revealed a
stature so much above the average height that the negro stepped back a
few paces and stared with astonishment. Plutarch Byle's feet, hands
and head seemed somewhat too large for his trunk and limbs, but were
quite in harmony with the big joints of his knees, elbows and wrists.
His attitudes were grotesque and his gestures awkward. Light, curly
hair covered his head; his nose was long and inquisitive; his eyes,
big, blue and good-humored; his mouth, incredibly wide, with shrewd,
mobile lips, which habitually smiled. A tuft of yellow beard on the
end of his sharp chin, gave his face a comical expression resembling
that which caricature bestows on Uncle Sam. His voice was pitched in a
high key, and was modified by that nasal twang supposed to indicate
Yankee origin; but a habit of giving his declarative sentences an
interrogative finish, might denote that he came from the mountain
regions of Pennsylvania or Virginia. A pair of linsey pantaloons, a
blue hunting shirt with a fringe of red and yellow, moccasins of
tanned leather and a woollen hat were his chief visible articles of
dress.

Scrutinizing Scipio's features as he might inspect a wonder in a
museum, Byle interrogated him:

"Potterin' about for greens, I reckon? Do you belong here, Africanus?"

The only information drawn from the slave was that the proprietor of
the island had bought hi