er.

"Luff um 'tis!" replied the helmsman.

The Isabel was running tolerably free at the time the order was given,
and when she luffed up, the planter's boat lay directly in her path. The
next instant she struck the bateau full on the broadside.

"Possifus!" shouted Cyd, at the top of his lungs, as he heard the
crashing and snapping of the pine boards, that indicated the destruction
of the planter's boat.

CHAPTER XXIII.

COLONEL RAYBONE CHANGES HIS TONE

The Isabel dashed furiously on her way, passing over the bateau of the
slave-hunters, which presently reappeared astern of her. Colonel
Raybone, who, in spite of his years and his habits, was an active man,
seized the bowsprit of the sail-boat, as it bore his frail bark beneath
the waves; and while Dan and Cyd were eagerly gazing into the water
astern of them in search of their dreaded master, he climbed upon the
forecastle of the Isabel, thus saving himself from the wreck and the
water.

"Hossifus!" groaned Cyd, as he turned to observe the course of the boat,
and discovered upon deck the stalwart form of Colonel Raybone--to him
the most terrible man on the face of the earth.

The exclamation attracted the attention of Dan, and a glance forward
revealed to him the desperate situation of his party. The slave-master,
nearly exhausted by the shock of the collision, and his exertions in
hauling himself up to the deck of the Isabel, had failed to improve the
first moment that ushered him into the presence of his astonished
chattels; and the loss of that opportunity was the ruin of his
expectations. Dan instantly raised his rifle; but the old feeling of awe
and reverence for the sacred person of his master prevented him from
firing at once.

"Hah, you villains! I've got you at last!" said Colonel Raybone.

Without making any reply to this expression of rage and malice, Dan
fired, but not at the head or the heart of the colonel; for he did not
wish to kill him. The rifle was aimed at one of his legs, and the ball
passed through the fleshy part of his thigh. Colonel Raybone, with a
volley of curses, sank upon the deck of the Isabel, a stream of blood
flowing from his wound. Dan dropped the rifle, and took one of the
fowling pieces, ready to complete his work if the occasion should
require. His face was deadly pale, his lips quivered, and his frame
trembled, as though the ball had passed through him, instead of his
master. He had watched and waited too long