Even Lily laughed when she realized that her friend Cyd was in no danger of dying in the bad fit which had attacked him; she laughed at his strange actions and his silly expressions; they all laughed for a time, but there was something very serious in the occasion.  The patient was taken down into the cabin, and put to bed in his bunk.

When he was asleep again, and the rest of the party had returned to the deck, the serious part of the affair came up for consideration; and the meeting was so solemn and momentous that even the good luck of the two sportsmen was forgotten, and the game and fish were allowed to remain unnoticed in the bateau.  To Dan and Lily it was a terrible thing for a boy like Cyd to get drunk.  It was very funny, but it was awfully serious in view of future consequences.

Several bottles of wine and liquor had been deposited in the lockers under the seats in the standing room, and Cyd had helped himself as he sat there alone.  This was the key to his mysterious sickness; and while his companions congratulated themselves upon Cyd’s expected recovery, it was deemed prudent to place all the intoxicating beverages on board in a secure place.  A locker in Lily’s cabin was selected for this purpose, and it was soon out of Cyd’s reach.

Dan wanted to throw all the liquor overboard, except a couple of bottles to be used as medicine; but Quin thought that some use might be made of it at a future time.  There was no one on board, except Cyd, who would drink it; and he had imbibed rather as a frolic than because he had any taste for the fiery article.

The patient slept all the rest of the day and all the following night.  The next morning he was afflicted with a terrible headache, and was so stupid that he was good for nothing.  He was severely reprimanded for his folly, and made a solemn promise never to partake again; and as the dangerous fluid was all locked up, and the key in Lily’s possession, it was believed that he would not violate his obligation.

Roast ducks and geese, and fried fish, were the food of the party for several days to come; and the change from salt provision was very agreeable.  About once a week Dan and Quin repeated the excursion to the lake, and almost always returned with a plentiful supply of fish and game.  The fugitives lived well, especially as pigeons, partridges, and an occasional wild turkey graced their table.  A roast coon was not an unusual luxury; for by extending their hunting-grounds in various directions, they added very much to the variety of their larder.

The small stores, such as butter, salt, sugar, coffee, and tea, were exhausted in the fall, though they had been very carefully expended.  They had been so long accustomed to their luxurious living, that the want of these articles was felt as a very great hardship.  Their nice ducks and geese were absolutely loathsome without salt, and Dan came to the conclusion that salt was a necessity, and that it must be procured at any risk.  About twenty miles from the camp there was a village where groceries could be obtained; and after a great deal of consideration it was decided to undertake a journey for this purpose.  They had been five months in the swamp without seeing any human being, though Dan and Quin, in one of their hunting trips, had heard voices on the lake.  They felt entirely secure in the camp, and Lily was not afraid to remain with Cyd while Dan and Quin went after the needed supplies.

It was resolved that Dan should pass himself off as a white boy, who, with a party of hunters, had encamped in the woods.  He therefore dressed himself for the part he was to play, and embarked in the bateau with Quin, who was to act as his servant.  With the utmost care they pursued their journey, and, without any incident or accident, came in sight of the village where they were to purchase the stores.  But Dan did not think it prudent to visit the place in broad daylight; so they concealed themselves in the swamp, and slept by turns till nearly daylight the next morning.

This seemed to be the most favorable time to visit the store; and they entered the village, which was called so by courtesy, for it had only six houses.  Putting on the bold, swaggering air of a young southerner, Dan entered the place, followed by his servant.  With all the bluster necessary to keep up his character, he roused the shopkeeper, and ordered, rather than requested, him to open his store.  Fortunately trade was not so lively in the place as to render the merchant independent of his business, and he gladly opened his establishment even at that unseemly hour.  He asked a great many questions, which Dan answered very readily.  The purchases were all made, and Dan’s funds, though they amounted to nearly thirty dollars, were almost exhausted.  When the stores had been gathered together, a new and appalling difficulty presented itself.  Dan had not intended to purchase a quarter part of the supplies which were now piled in the middle of the store.  It was five miles to the lake, and no two men in the universe could have carried them that distance.

The matter was one of so much importance, and the articles obtained with so much greater facility than he expected, that he had been tempted to procure this large stock.  But the pile was so large that he began to repent of the act, and to wish that half his money was in his pocket again.  To remedy the difficulty he began to bluster, and told the storekeeper that he must get a team and tote the goods down to the lake for him.

The man objected; but he at last consented to procure his neighbor’s mule team and help them out.  For this service Dan paid him two dollars more, which entirely collapsed his exchequer.  The stores were safely deposited in the bateau, and the man drove off, apparently as well satisfied with his morning’s work as the other party to the transaction.

As soon as he was out of sight and hearing, Quin could contain himself no longer, and vented his satisfaction at the success of the enterprise in the most violent and extraordinary manner.  He laughed till his eyes were filled with tears, and had nearly upset the overloaded boat by his extravagant demonstrations.

“What’s the matter, Quin?” demanded Dan, astonished at the conduct of his usually prudent and sedate companion.

“Bress de Lo’d, we’s got all de tings,” exclaimed Quin.

“Don’t crow till you get out of the woods.”

“Dar’s de hard bread, and de salt, and de butter ­golly, Massa Dan, you done do dat ting bery fine.”

“Wait till we get back to the camp before you say any thing.  We are not out of danger yet.”

“But we’s got de tings, Dan ­de coffee, de sugar, and de salt.”

“Take your oar now, and when we get back we’ll have a jolly time.”

“Bress de Lo’d, yes, Dan,” said the delighted Quin, as he grasped the oar.

Prosperity makes men careless and reckless.  The bateau was so crowded with stores that the rowers had but little space to use the oars.  Their progress was necessarily very slow.  They wanted to get back to the camp before night, and instead of keeping under the lee of the land, where the boat would not be likely to attract attention, they proceeded by the shortest route.  When they reached the upper end of the lake, and were within five miles of the camp, they were startled to see a boat put out from one of the small islands, and pull towards them.

“De Lo’d sabe us!” exclaimed Quin, as he discovered the boat, which contained two white men.

“Take no notice of them, and don’t speak a word,” said Dan, in a low tone.

“De Lo’d hab us in his holy keeping!” ejaculated Quin, reverently, as he raised his eyes towards heaven.

“Do you know them?” asked Dan.

“One of dem’s Massa Longworth; don’t know de oder,” replied Quin, his teeth chattering as though he had been suddenly seized with the ague.

“Who is he?”

“De oberseer on de plantation next to olé massa’s.”

The overloaded bateau rendered an escape by fast rowing impossible, and the fugitives continued to pull steadily, as before.  Dan had his gun in a position where he could use it when occasion required.  The two men pulled up to within a short distance of the bateau, and rested on their oars.

“Where ye gwine with all that stuff?” demanded Longworth.

“We belong to a party of gunners up here,” replied Dan, boldly; for he was determined to make the most of the circumstances.

“Where be they?”

“Up to Chicot ­about ten miles from here.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Longworth, glancing at his companion.  “That’s a good story, but it won’t go down.”

“You open your mouth wide enough to take any thing down,” answered Dan, smartly.

“Can’t swallow that story, no how,” said the overseer.  “But who’s that boy with you?”

“None of your business.  I don’t make stories for you to laugh at.”

“Yes, you do, my boy.  But you needn’t row any furder.  We want ye both.”

“You can’t have us.”

“We’ll see about that,” added the man, as he raised his fowling piece.

“No use, ­’tain’t loaded,” snarled the other man in the boat.

“Mine is,” replied Dan, elevating the piece.

Longworth cursed his companion for the revelation he had made, and proceeded to load the gun.  In the mean time Dan dropped his piece, and began to pull again.

“Stop, now.  I don’t want to destroy val’able property with this yere iron, but I must if you don’t stop,” continued the overseer, as he finished loading his gun.

“Perhaps I can destroy as much valuable property as you can,” said Dan, as he took his fowling piece again.

“You must come with me.  I know that nigger in the boat with you, and I reckon you belong to Colonel Raybone.”

“I, you villain!  How dare you insult me?  I am a free white man.”

“Perhaps you be, but you’ve been advertised enough to let any man in these yere parts know you.  That nigger belongs to my neighbor.  If you’ve a mind to come in quietly, I’ll see you let off without any whippin.”

“I have no mind to come in, either quietly or otherwise,” replied Dan.

“Then the wust’s your own;” and Longworth fired.

The ball whistled within a few feet of Dan’s head; but, unterrified by the peril, he raised his gun and fired.

“I’m hit!” groaned Longworth, as he sank down into the boat.

The other man in the boat with Longworth took the gun, loaded it, and fired.  At that moment Dan had stooped down to pick up his shot-pouch, and Quin being the more prominent party in the bateau, the other man fired at him.

“De Lo’d sabe me!” groaned Quin, as he placed both hands on his chest.

Dan was ready to fire again; but, to his astonishment, he saw the man who had shot his companion seize the oars and pull away from the spot as fast as he could.

It was evident that the fate of his companion had appalled him; and seeing Dan nearly ready to discharge his gun again, he hastened to widen the distance between them.  He rowed with the desperation of a doomed man.  As the boat receded, Longworth raised himself up, as if to assure the fugitives that he was not dead.

Dan pointed the gun at the retreating boat for some time, and then fired, but not with the intention of hitting his savage foes.  They were slave-drivers, but he did not wish to kill them.

The boat shortly disappeared, and Dan turned his attention to his wounded companion.  The ball had passed through his lungs, and had penetrated a vital organ.  Deeply affected by the event, he did what he could to stanch the blood; but poor Quin was past the aid of any surgery, and breathed his last a few minutes later.

Fearful that other pursuers might soon appear, Dan worked the boat up the bayou as rapidly as he could alone; but it was late at night when he reached the camp.  Then he wept; then the tears of Lily mingled with his own over the corpse of the honest and faithful Quin, whose spirit had soared aloft, where the black man is as free as his white oppressor.