half divided it from his arm. He gave a
shriek of surprise and pain, and fell back.

"He has a knife," exclaimed he, with surprise, holding his severed wrist
with the other hand.

"Yes, he has a knife, and more than one," replied I; "and you see that
he knows how to use it. Will you come again? Or will you believe that
I am master?"

"If you have any charity or mercy, kill me at once," said he, as he sat
up in the moonlight, in the centre of the floor of the cabin.

"Charity and mercy," said I, "what are they? I never heard of them."

"Alas! No," replied he, "I have showed none--it's a judgment on me--a
judgment on me for my many sins; Lord, forgive me! First my eyes, now
my right hand useless. What next, O Lord of Heaven?"

"Why, your other hand next," replied I, "if you try it again."

Jackson made no reply. He attempted to crawl back to his bed, but,
faint with loss of blood, he dropped senseless on the floor of the
cabin. I looked at him, and, satisfied that he would make no more
attempts upon me, I turned away, and fell fast asleep. In about two
hours I awoke, and looking round, perceived him lying on the floor,
where he had fallen the night before. I went to him and examined him--
was he asleep; or was he dead? He lay in a pool of blood. I felt him,
and he was quite warm. It was a ghastly cut on his wrist, and I
thought, if he is dead, he will never tell me what I want to know. I
knew that he bound up cuts to stop the blood. I took some feathers from
the bed, and put a handful on the wound. After I had done it, I bound
his wrist up with a piece of fishing-line I had taken to secure the
sheath knife round my waist, and then I went for some water. I poured
some down his throat; this revived him, and he opened his eyes.

"Where am I?" said he, faintly.

"Where are you?--why, in the cabin," said I.

"Give me some more water."

I did so, for I did not wish to kill him. I wanted him to live, and to
be in my power. After drinking the water, he roused himself, and
crawled back to his bed-place. I left him then, and went down to bathe.

The reader may exclaim--What a horrid tyrant this boy is--why, he is as
bad as his companion. Exactly--I was so; but let the reader reflect
that I was made so by education. From the time that I could first
remember, I had been tyrannised over; cuffed, kicked, abused, and
ill-treated. I had never known kindness. Most truly was the question
put by me, "C