tion,
into the hands of some of the more stalwart negroes. These he sent to
their cabins, which lay at a distance of about a furlong and a half on
various sides of the house. The men had orders to fire on any advancing
enemy, and then to fall back at once on the main building, which was now
barricaded and fortified. One lad was told to lurk in a thicket below
the slope of the hill and invisible from the house.

"If Wild Bill's men come on, and you give them the slip, cry thrice like
the 'Bob White,'" said Moore; "if they take you, cry once. If you get
off, run straight to Clayville, and give this note to the officer
commanding the cavalry."

The hour was now about one in the morning; by three the dawn would begin.
In spite of his fatigues, Moore had no idea of snatching an hour's rest.
He called up Peter (who had been sleeping, coiled up like a black cat, in
the smoking-room), and bade him take a bath and hot water into the room
where Gumbo, the newly purchased black, had all this time been left to
his own reflections. "Soap him and lather him well, Peter," said Moore;
"wash him white, if you can, and let me know when he's fit to come near."

Peter withdrew with his stereotyped grin to make his preparations.

Presently, through the open door of the smoking-room, we heard the sounds
of energetic splashings, mingled with the inarticulate groans of the
miserable Gumbo. Moore could not sit still, but kept pacing the room,
smoking fiercely. Presently Peter came to the door--

"Nigger's clean now, massa."

"Bring me a razor, then," said Moore, "and leave me alone with him."

* * * * *

When Moore had retired, with the razor, into the chamber where his
purchase lay, I had time to reflect on the singularity of the situation.
In every room loaded rifles were ready; all the windows were cunningly
barricaded, and had sufficient loopholes. The peaceful planter's house
had become a castle; a dreadful quiet had succeeded to the hubbub of
preparation, and my host, yesterday so pleasant, was now locked up alone
with a dumb negro and a razor! I had long ago given up the hypothesis
that Gumbo had been purchased out of pure philanthropy. The
disappointment of baffled cruelty in Moore's brother would not alone
account for the necessity of such defensive preparations as had just been
made. Clearly Gumbo was not a mere fancy article, but a negro of real
value, whose person it was desirable to obtain possession of at any ri