o get back for the voodoo dance?"

"But, Yes!"

"You'll be too late if you take me into town. See."

He showed his watch and held out a twenty-five gourde bill.

"Suppose I give you this. It's all the money I have. You can tell Jules
to tell Manuel that you saw me get on board a steamer in Cap Haitien,
and that you saw the steamer start. Then you can be back in plenty of
time for the dance."

Hippolyte hesitated. The temptation was strong.

"Unless, of course," the boy added carelessly, "you like this white man,
Manuel, so much."

An expression of primitive hate wrote itself on the ebon face, a
peculiarly malignant snarl, as seen by moonlight.

"I hate all whites!" he flashed.

"Then why should you do a good turn for this Manuel?"

The instincts of a simple honesty struggled with the black's desire. A
passing gust of wind brought the rhythmic beating of the tom-tom
clearer to their ears. It was the one call that the jungle blood of the
negro could not resist. He held out his hand for the money.

"You go into Cap Haitien alone?" he queried, thickly.

"Yes, I'll promise that," the boy agreed.

He dismounted, swung his knapsack on his back, and handed the reins of
the mule to Hippolyte, who sat, still uncertain. But the negro's head
was turned so that he could hear the throbbing of the drum, and, with an
answering howl that went back to the days of the African jungle, he
turned and sped back over the rough trail at the same headlong speed he
had come.

"If he doesn't break his neck!" commented Stuart, as he saw him go,
"it'll be a wonder!"

There were yet a couple of hours before dawn, and Stuart plodded along
the trail, which could lead to no other place than Cap Haitien. He
walked as fast as he could, hoping to reach the city before daylight,
but the first streaks of dawn found him still nearly two miles from the
town. He did not want to enter the town afoot by daylight. That would be
too conspicuous, and there were plans germinating in the boy's head
which needed secrecy. He must hide all day, and get into Cap Haitien the
next night.

Stuart slipped off the road and wriggled his way through the dense
thicket, seeking a place where there was light enough to read, and yet
where the foliage was dense enough to prevent him being seen by anyone
passing that way.

A few moments' search only were required before he found the ideal spot,
and he threw himself down on a pile of leaves with great zest. That m