before his remembrance at the sound of the old home voice in that lonely
place, the delinquent Bushie, now thoroughly penitent, lifted up his
voice and wept aloud. "The little sinner had come to his milk." Yes,
though a runaway, he had in him the good, sound stuff for making the
good, sound man. Burl remained silent for some moments, that wholesome
repentance might have its way and start the penitent toward the better
life; then, making a big pretense of yielding the point, and wishing to
hide, under a show of obedience to his baby superior, what he deemed an
unwarrior-like weakness of feeling, he wound up the matter thus: "Well,
Bushie, dar's reason in all things. You's my little marster, I's yo' ol'
nigger. Bein' yo' ol' nigger, I mus' do what my little marster tells me
to do, an' let de young Injun up. But mind you now, I'm doin' it beca'se
he was good to my little marster. But who'd a thought it was in de red
rubbish to do de like?" And with this closing observation, spoken in an
under-tone, and meant only for the private ear of Burlman Rennuls, the
Fighting Nigger stepped from over the prostrate foe, giving, as he did
so, a wide, upward wave of the hand, with a huge, upward nod of the
head, which said as plainly as ever had chivalry said it: "Vanquished
warrior, rise and live!"

The young Indian rose to his feet, and going directly up to his little
preserver, shook him with gentle earnestness by the hand, evincing in
the simple act and the look attending it the utmost thankfulness of
heart, mixed with respect and admiration. Then he went to the log,
against which still leaned a loaded rifle, and was picking it up when
Burl, suspecting treachery, sprung forward to frustrate the hostile
design. But too quick for him, the young savage gathering up the weapon
and wielding it in his right-hand, discharged it into the air. Then,
with grave composure, as though he had not noticed the movement of
alarm, he surrendered the empty rifle to his victor, in token of his
entire submission; though, as he did so, he pointed to Bushie, his
captive but the hour before, thus signifying that he wished to be
regarded as the prisoner of his little preserver.

Without seeming to know what he was doing, Burl took the rifle and,
resting it on the ground, stood motionless for many moments, staring
fixedly at the young Indian with a look of unqualified astonishment and
unmitigated bewilderment, as if his senses had told him something that
h