had taken the lives of
several runaways while in pursuit of them, and caused others to be torn
and mangled by his savage dogs!

He was the terror and aversion of every negro quarter along the coast;
and his name--appropriate to his character--oft served the sable mother
as a "bogey" to frighten her squalling piccaninny into silence!

Such was Ruffin the _man-hunter_, as he was known among the black helots
of the plantations. The "cobbing-board" and the red cowhide were not
half so terrible as he. In comparison with him, such characters as
"Bully Bill," the flogging overseer, might be esteemed mild and humane.

The sight of this man at once deprived me of all farther thought of
escape. I permitted my pistol arm to drop loosely by my side, and stood
awaiting his advance, with the intention of surrendering ourselves up.
Resistance would be vain, and could only lead to the idle spilling of
blood. With this intention I remained silent, having cautioned my
companion to do the same.

On first emerging from the cane-brake, the hunter did not see us. I was
partially screened by the moss where I stood--Aurore entirely so.
Besides, the man's eyes were not turned in our direction. They were
bent upon the ground. No doubt he had heard the reports of my pistol;
but he trusted more to his tracking instincts; and, from his bent
attitude. I could tell that he was trailing his own dogs--almost as one
of themselves would have done!

As he neared the edge of the pond, the _smell_ of the water reached him;
and, suddenly halting, he raised his eyes and looked forward. The sight
of the pond seemed to puzzle him, and his astonishment was expressed in
the short sharp expression--

"Hell!"

The next moment his eyes fell upon the prostrate tree, then quickly
swept along its trunk, and rested full upon me.

"Hell and scissors!" he exclaimed, "thar are ye! Whar's my dogs?"

I stood eyeing him back, but made no reply.

"You hear, damn yer! Whar's my dogs?"

I still remained silent.

His eyes fell upon the log. He saw the blood-spots upon the hark. He
remembered the shots.

"Hell and damn!" cried he, with horrid emphasis, "you've kilt my dogs!"
and then followed a volley of mingled oaths and threats, while the
ruffian gesticulated as, if he had suddenly gone mad!

After a while he ceased from these idle demonstrations; and, planting
himself firmly, he raised his rifle muzzle towards me, and cried out:--

"Come off tha