st, he put the
head of the dog softly back on the earth, and stood up, and turned
toward the mountaineer. He made explanation with simple directness.
The negro was a notorious outlaw, for whose capture the authorities of
Elizabeth City offered a reward of five hundred dollars. Half of this
sum would be duly paid to Zeke.

This news stirred the young man to the deeps. To his poverty-stricken
experience, the amount was princely. The mere mention of it made
privations to vanish away, luxuries to flourish. He had roseate
visions of lavish expenditures: a warm coat for the old mother,
furbelows for Plutina, "straighteners" even, if she would have them.
The dreamer blushed at the intimacy of his thought. It did not occur
to his frugal soul that now he need not continue on _The Bonita_, but
might instead go easily to New York by train. He was naively happy in
this influx of good fortune, and showed his emotion in the deepened
color under the tan of his cheeks and in the dancing lights of the
steady eyes.

"I'm shore plumb glad I kotched him," he said eagerly, "if thar's a
right smart o' money in hit. If he's as right-down bad as ye says he
is, I'm powerfully sorry I didn't wing 'im 'fore he got yer dawg."

Brant shook his head regretfully.

"It's my fault," he confessed. "I oughtn't to have taken the chance
with Bruno alone. I should have had Jack along, too. With more than
one dog, a man won't stand against 'em. He'll take to a tree." He
shook off the depression that descended as he glanced down at the
stiffening body of the beast. There was a forced cheerfulness in his
tones when he continued: "But how did you get into the swamp? I take
you to be from the mountains."

Zeke's manner suddenly indicated no small pride.

"I'm a sailor, suh," he explained, with great dignity. "I'm the
cookin' chief on the fishin' steamer, _Bonita_."

Brant surveyed the mountaineer with quizzically appraising eyes.

"Been a sailor long?" he questioned, innocently.

"Wall, no, I hain't," Zeke conceded. His voice was reluctant. "I was
only tuk on las' night. I hain't rightly begun sailorin' yit. Thet's
how I c'd come arter thet gobbler." He pointed to the bird lying at
the foot of the cypress. Abruptly, his thoughts veered again to the
reward. "Oh, cracky! Jest think of all thet money earned in two
minutes! Hit's what I come down out o' the mountains fer, an' hit
'pears like I done right. I'd shore be tickled to see all thet-thar
money i