and
lemons, and she told me that it was she who had bought them, as well as
a stock of coffee and tea; that Johnny was her partner, but that he had
done nothing but build the house, and badly built it was. She then began
to abuse Johnny, and said he was a gambler; and, worse still, that he
had had plenty of money once, but had lost it all; that she had first
known him in Lower Natchez, but he had been obliged to run away from
there in the night to save his neck. Bob was no better, she said; on the
contrary--and here she made the gesture of cutting a man's throat--he
was a very bad fellow, she added. He had got drunk after his dinner,
knocked Johnny down, and broken every thing. He was now lying asleep
outside the door; and Johnny had hidden himself somewhere.

How long she continued speaking I know not, for I again fell into a deep
sleep, which this time lasted six or seven hours.

I was awakened by a strong grasp laid upon my arm, which made me cry
out, more, however, from surprise than pain. Bob stood by my bedside;
the traces of the preceding night's debauch plainly written on his
haggard countenance. His bloodshot eyes were inflamed and swollen, and
rolled with even more than their usual wildness; his mouth was open, and
the jaws stiff and fixed; he looked as if he had just come from
committing some frightful deed. I could fancy the first murderer to have
worn such an aspect when gazing on the body of his slaughtered brother.
I shrank back, horror-struck at his appearance.

"In God's name, man, what do you want?"

He made no answer.

"You are in a fever. You've the ague!"

"Ay, a fever," groaned he, shivering as he spoke; "a fever, but not the
one you mean; a fever, young man, such as God keep you from ever
having."

His whole frame shuddered while he uttered these words. There was a
short pause.

"Curious that," continued he; "I've served more than one in the same
way, but never thought of it afterwards--was forgotten in less than no
time. Got to pay the whole score at once, I suppose. Can't rest a
minute. In the open prairie it's the worst; there stands the old man, so
plain, with his silver beard, and the spectre just behind him."

His eyes rolled, he clenched his fists, and, striking his forehead
furiously, rushed out of the hut.

In a few minutes he returned, apparently more composed, and walked
straight up to my bed.

"Stranger, you must do me a service," said he abruptly.

"Ten rather than on