ho!" "U-gooh!"]

"Burlman Rennuls," says I to myself, still p'intin' my gun at de bank,
"yo' day's work's done." But hain't hardly said it when, "Burl, Burl!"
ses Bushie; "Bow-wow," ses Grumbo; and "w-h-izz," ses a tommyhawk,
grazin' my nose an' stickin' itse'f in a tree by my side. [Here hurling
the identical tomahawk over the heads of the wincing listeners and
sinking it in a tree behind them. "Goodness gracious, Bu'lman Rennuls,
how you skeer a pusson!" exclaimed a finical female voice in the
audience. It may have been another coincidence, but just here Grumbo
fetched the stump another ratifying rap of the tail.]

I wheels about, an' dar's t'udder dead varmint up on his legs an'
a-comin' at me wid his knife, but Grumbo holdin' him back by de
coat-tail. "I yi, you dogs!" an' at him I go--grabs his knife, clinches
his throat, when down to de groun' we come--Injun, nigger, an' dog,
dog-fashion, all in a pile togedder.

["Cap'n Rennuls," said a voice in the audience, "ef de varmint wus a
dead one, how could he do all dat like a live one?"]

You g' long! Dat's none uf my lookout. Ef it wusn't as I tell you, would
de young Injun be dar in my doo' now, smokin' his pipe? Ef you won't
b'lieve me ax him; an' ef you can't take his word fur it, ax Grumbo.
[Audience: "H-yah, h-yah, h-yah!" "Shucks!" See Glossary. And here
again, too roundly and soundly for mere coincidence, Grumbo fetched the
stump a ratifying rap of the tail, that said as plainly as a dog's tail
ever said any thing: "Yea, and I'll swear to it."]

* * * * *

But we have followed our black Munchausen through the least wonderful
part of his story, as narrated by himself; and further than this, for
reasons already hinted, we dare not venture, the facts of the narrative
here beginning to grow tame again, and the narrator's fancies wide. So
we shall leave our lion to go on roaring it out into the ears of his
colored admirers to his heart's satisfaction, till he is empty and they
are full. At last, after blowing and puffing for nearly an hour in the
popular ear, the windy story, tapering off with a little facetious gas
designed for the ladies, found its way to an end, and dismissing his
audience with a majestic wave of his war-cap, Big Black Burl came down
from the rostrum.

Chapter XV.

HOW BIG BLACK BURL SEWED IT UP IN HIS WAR-CAP.

By the time the Fighting Nigger had made an end of blowing his trumpet,
the shadows of