he
trunks of the trees, that the hindrance lay; and I had many a struggle
among the branches, and many a zigzag turn to make, before I could get
my eyes upon the object I was in pursuit of.

However, I at length succeeded in doing so. The underwood came to an
end. The misshapen cypress trunks alone stood up out of the miry, black
soil; and far off, down one of their dark aisles, I caught sight of the
negro, still running at the top of his speed. Fortunately his garments
were light-coloured, else under the sombre shadow I could not have made
him out. As it was, I had only a glimpse of him, and at a good distance
off.

But I had cleared the thicket, and could run freely. Swiftness had now
everything to do with the race; and in less than five minutes after I
was close upon the heels of the black, and calling to him to halt.

"Stop!" I shouted. "For God's sake, stop!"

No notice was taken of my appeals. The negro did not even turn his
head, but ran on, floundering through the mud.

"Stop!" I repeated, as loudly as my exhausted breath would permit.
"Stop, man! why do you run from me? I mean you no harm."

Neither did this speech produce any effect. No reply was given. If
anything, I fancied that he increased his speed; or rather, perhaps, he
had got through the quagmire, and was running upon firm ground while I
was just entering upon the former.

I fancied that the distance between us was again widening; and began to
fear he might still elude me. I felt that my life was on the result.
Without him to guide me from the forest, I would miserably perish. He
_must_ guide me. Willing or unwilling, I should force him to the
office.

"Stop," I again cried out; "halt, or I fire!"

I had raised my gun. Both barrels were loaded. I had spoken in all
seriousness. I should in reality have fired--not to kill, but to detain
him. The shot might injure him, but I could not help it. I had no
choice--no other means of saving my own life.

I repeated the awful summons:--

"Stop--or I fire!"

This time my tone was earnest. It left no doubt of my intention; and
this seemed to be the impression it produced upon the black; for,
suddenly halting in his tracks, he wheeled about, and stood facing me.

"Fire! and be dam!" cried he; "have a care, white man--don't you miss.
By Gor-amighty! if ya do, your life's mine. See dis knife! fire now and
be dam!"

As he spoke he stood full fronting me, his broad chest thrown