and get some, Nat. I am starving."

"Think of that now!" cried Nat, feebly. "Why, I've got some here.
Master Scar! Now, let me think. I'm all in a muddle like in the head,
and can't tell what's been dreaming and what isn't; but I've got a sort
o' notion that some one come in the dark, and talked to me or talked
about me, and then said they'd leave me something to eat."

"Dreaming, Nat, my poor fellow! Your loss of blood has made you a
little off your head."

"Well, then, if I was dreaming, there aren't nothing to eat, Master
Scar. But if I warn't dreaming, there's something close by me here,
and--There, Master Scar, it warn't a dream!"

"Nat!" cried Scarlett, joyfully, as the poor fellow feebly brought forth
the food Fred and Samson had left. "May--may I take some?" he faltered.

"Take it all, my dear lad, take it all, and yeat it. I couldn't yeat
anything now. Shouldn't mind a big mug o' water. That's about my
tune."

In spite of himself, Scarlett broke off a piece of the bread cake, and
began to eat ravenously.

But he recollected himself directly, and placed some to the wounded
man's lips.

"Thank ye, lad, no," said Nat, sadly; "but if you could get me a drop o'
water, I'd be 'bliged, for I feel just like a flower a-drying up in the
sun."

Poor Nat did not look it, whatever he might feel; but almost before he
had ceased speaking, Scarlett had slipped through the hole as the safest
way, gone to the opening by the lake, dipped his hat three-parts full of
water, and borne it back, placing it safely between two boughs at the
side of the top, while he climbed out; and the next minute he was
holding the dripping felt to Nat's lips.

"Hah!" ejaculated the poor fellow, feebly; "it's worth being chopped a
bit and lying here for the sake of the appetite it gives you."

"Appetite, Nat?" said Scarlett, taking up the bread.

"'Tite for water, lad. That's the sweetest drop I ever did taste, I
will say."

"Drink again?"

"Ay, that I will, hearty," whispered Nat; and he partook of another long
draught. "There," he said, "now you give me one bit o' that cake to
nibble, and you may go. To get food, didn't you say, sir, just now?"

"I want some--for my father, Nat, but--if--I can have some of this?"

"Take it all, my dear lad, take it all. Where is the master, sir?"

Scarlett told him in as few words as possible, and Nat stared at him.

"No, it's of not a bit o' good, Master Scar," he said sadly. "I