n
negroes were in the centre of the room, apparently cowed by his fierce
and desperate looks, and his master stood within a few feet of him.

'I tell you, Cunnel,' cried the negro, as I entered, 'you touch me at
your peril.'

'You d--d nigger, do you dare to speak so to me?' said his master,
taking a step toward him.

The knife rose in the air, and the black, in a cool, sneering tone,
replied: 'Say your prayers 'fore you come ony nigher, for, so help me
God, you're a dead man!'

I laid my hand on the Colonel's arm, to draw him back, saying as I did
so: 'There's danger in him! I _know_ it Let him go, and he shall ask
your pardon.'

'I shan't ax his pardon,' cried the black, 'leff him and me be, sar;
we'll fix dis ourselfs.'

'Don't interfere, Mr. K----,' said my host, with perfect coolness, but
with a face pallid with rage. 'Let me govern my own plantation.'

'As you say, sir,' I replied, stepping back a few paces; 'but I warn
you--there is danger in him!'

Taking no notice of my remark, the Colonel turned to the trembling
negroes, and said: 'One of you go to the house and bring my pistols.'

'You kin shoot me, ef you likes,' said Jim, with a fierce, grim smile;
'but I'll take you to h--l wid me, _shore_. You knows WE won't stand a
blow!'

The Colonel, at the allusion to their relationship, started as if shot,
and turning furiously on the negro, yelled out: 'I'll shoot you for
that, you d--d nigger, by----.'

'It 'pears ter me, Cunnel, ye've hed 'bout nuff shootin' 'round har,
lately; better stop thet sort o' bis'ness; it moight give ye a sore
throat,' said the long, lean, loose-jointed stump-speaker of the
previous Sunday, as he entered the cabin and strode directly up to my
host.

'What brought you here, you d--d insolent hound?' cried the Colonel,
turning fiercely on the new-comer.

'Wal, I cum to du ye a naboorly turn--I've kotched two on yer niggers
down ter my still, an' I want ye ter take 'em 'way,' returned the
corn-cracker, with the utmost coolness.

'Two of my niggers!' exclaimed the Colonel, perceptibly moderating his
tone, 'which ones?'

'A yaller gal, and a child.'

'I thank you, Barnes; excuse my hard words--I was excited.'

'All right, Cunnel; say no more 'bout thet. Will ye send fur 'em? I'd
hev fotched 'em 'long, but my waggin's off jest now.'

'Yes, I'll send at once. Have you got them safe?'

'Safe? I reckon so! Kotched 'em las' night, arter dark, and they've kept
right still