he question is, what's to be done, for it's quite clear that my
mates an' me can't remain for ever hidin' among the rocks. We must be
off; an' I want to know, are we to take this poor gal with us, or are we
to leave her behind, an', if so, what are her friends a-goin' to do for
her?"

"There's no fear of your friends going off without you, I suppose?"

"Well, as they risked their precious lives to rescue me, it ain't
likely," returned the seaman.

"Would it not be well to keep Brown here till Ben-Ahmed returns?" asked
Foster, turning to Peter the Great.

The negro knitted his brows and looked vacantly up through the leafy
roof of the bower, as if in profound meditation. Some of the brighter
stars were beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky by that time, and
one of them seemed to wink at him encouragingly, for he suddenly turned
to the middy with all the energy of his nature, exclaiming, "I's got
it!" and brought his great palm down on his greater thigh with a
resounding slap.

"If it's in your breeches pocket you must have squashed it, then!" said
Brown--referring to the slap. "Anyhow, if you've got it, hold on to it
an' let's hear what it is."

"No--not now. All in good time. Patience, my frind, is a virtoo wuf
cultivation--"

"You needn't go for to tell _that_ to a Bagnio slave like me, Mister
Peter. Your greatness might have made you aware o' that," returned the
sailor quietly.

An eye-shutting grin was Peter's reply to this, and further converse was
stopped by the sound of clattering hoofs.

"Massa!" exclaimed the negro, listening. "Das good. No time lost.
Come wid me, you sham nigger, an' I's gib you somet'ing to tickle you
stummik. You go an' look arter de hoss, Geo'ge."

While the middy ran to the gate to receive his master, Peter the Great
led the sham nigger to the culinary regions, where, in a sequestered
corner, he supplied him with a bowl containing a savoury compound of
chicken and rice.

"I hope that all has gone well?" Foster ventured to ask as the Moor
dismounted.

"All well. Send Peter to me immediately," he replied, and, without
another word, hurried into the house.

Calling another slave and handing over the smoking horse to him, Foster
ran to the kitchen.

"Peter, you're--"

"Wanted 'meeditly--yes, yes--I knows dat. What a t'ing it is to be
in'spensible to anybody! I don't know how he'll eber git along widout
me."

Saying which he hurried away, leaving the middy