"Good morning," I replied.

"Ridin' far, yer honor?" said the man again.

"Massa Humf'y Bold ridin' jest as far as Missus Cludde's at
Penolver," said my guide, coming at this moment into the room with
a plate of jams and part of a fowl. "Massa Bold a king's officer,
and don't want do no talk wiv common man. Me do talk for massa."

I laughed at the negro's officiousness, which the man did not
appear to resent. He said nothing more to me, and I soon knew by
his snores that he had fallen asleep.

After a light meal and a long rest, we set off again, and came at
dark to another humble roadside hostelry, where I was glad to put
up for the night. I had not yet gone to sleep when I heard the
trot-trot of a horse, and wondered a little, as the sound died away
in the distance, who could be riding so late. A brilliant moon was
shining, and I thought that perhaps I had done better if I too had
pursued my journey through the night, and rested during the day.
But it was too late to think of that now; I was very tired, and
with the faint sounds of the trotting horse still in my ears I fell
asleep, not awaking till the sun was an hour or two above the
horizon.

'Twas towards evening next day when, after riding through a wild
hilly country, densely clad with tropical vegetation, amid which
the only road was a horse track, my guide told me we were
approaching our journey's end. The road broadened, and by and by
ran between large fields of pasture land. Then we came beneath a
thick grove, and were jogging along carelessly, when my horse
suddenly stumbled and went down with so violent a shock that I was
jerked from the saddle. Before I could get upon my feet, rough
hands seized me, in a trice cords were lashed round me with a
dexterity that identified my captors as seamen, and I was forthwith
hauled along at the heels of as villainous a crew as I had ever
seen. And I knew from sundry moans and howls behind me that Jacob
had been dealt with in like manner.

Chapter 23: Uncle Moses.

Since my former kidnapping at Bristowe I had learned that 'tis mere
folly to fly into a rage and rail at fate or your enemies. So,
affecting a cheerful tone, I said:

"Why, sure this is scurvy treatment to deal out to a king's
officer, my friends."

"No friends of yourn," replied one of the men.

Another laughed and said: "Strap me if we ha'n't caught a tolly,
mates."

"Tolly," as I learned afterwards, was the cant name by which king's