mulatto. Any life
but that of a slave! His purpose, modified by late events and
occurrences, is likely to be altogether changed by them. His Jule will
be going to Texas, along with her master and young mistresses. In the
hope of rejoining her, he will go there too--as soon as he can escape to
the swamp.

On this evening he expects later news, with a more particular account of
what is about to be done. Blue Bill is to bring them, and direct from
Jule, whom the coon-hunter has promised to see. Moreover, Jupe has a
hope of being able to see her himself, previous to departure; and to
arrange an interview, through the intervention of his friend, is the
matter now most on his mind. No wonder, then, his scanning the sky, or
its faint reflection, with glances that speak impatience.

At length, becoming satisfied it must be near night, he starts off from
the eyot, and makes way along the causeway furnished by the trunks of
the fallen trees. This serves him only for some two hundred yards,
ending on the edge of deep water, beyond which the logs lie submerged.
The last of them showing above, is the wreck of a grand forest giant,
with branches undecayed, and still carrying the parasite of Spanish moss
in profusion. This hanging down in streamers, scatters over the surface
and dips underneath, like the tails of white horses wading knee-deep.
In its midst appears something, which would escape the eye of one
passing carelessly by. On close scrutiny it is seen to be a craft of
rude construction--a log with the heart wood removed--in short, a canoe
of the kind called "dug-out."

No surprise to the runaway slave seeing it there; no more at its seeming
to have been placed in concealment. It is his own property, by himself
secreted.

Gliding down through the moss-bedecked branches, he steps into it; and,
after balancing himself aboard, dips his paddle into the water, and sets
the dug-out adrift.

A way for a while through thick standing trunks that require many
tortuous turnings to avoid them.

At length a creek is reached, a _bayou_ with scarce any current; along
which the canoe-man continues his course, propelling the craft
up-stream. He has made way for something more than a mile, when a noise
reaches his ear, causing him to suspend stroke, with a suddenness that
shows alarm.

It is only the barking of a dog; but to him no sound could be more
significant--more indicative of danger.

On its repetition, which almos