sedly back into the boat. "Go ahead!"

"They will fire into us, no doubt. Had I not better run in to the other
shore?"

"No; there may be a host of 'em there. Keep in the middle of the stream,
and we'll give 'em the slip yet."

It must be confessed that Leslie experienced rather strange sensations
as he neared the locality which had excited their suspicion, especially
when he knew that he was exposed to any shot that they might feel
inclined to give. A shudder ran through his frame, when, directly
opposite the spot, he distinctly heard a groan of agony.

Kent made a motion for him to cease rowing. Bending their heads down and
listening, they again heard that now loud, agonizing expression of
mortal pain.

As soon as Leslie was certain that the sound proceeded from some being
in distress, he headed the boat toward the shore.

"Stop!" commanded Kent; "you should have more sense than that."

"But will you not assist a person in distress?" asked he, gazing
reproachfully into his face.

"Who's in distress?"

"Oh, Gorra mighty! I's been dyin'," now came from the shore.

"Hallo there! what's wantin'?" called Whiteman.

"Help, help, 'fore dis Indian gentleman--'fore I dies from de wounds dat
dey's given me."

"I've heard that voice before," remarked Kent to Leslie, in an
undertone.

"So have I," replied the latter. "Why, it is George Leland's negro; _he_
wouldn't decoy us into danger. Let us go in."

"Wait until I speak further with him." (Then, to the person upon shore):
"What might be your name?"

"Zeb Langdon. Isn't dat old Kent?"

"Yes; how came you in this scrape, Zeb?"

"Gorra mighty! I didn't come into it. Dem red dogs--dese here nice
fellers--brought me here 'bout two months ago, and den dey all fired at
me fur two or free days, and den dey hung me up and left me to starve to
death. Boo-hoo-oo!"

"But," said Leslie, "you were at home yesterday when I came up the
river."

"Yes; dey burned down de house last night, and cooked us all and eat us
up. I's come to live ag'in, and crawled down here to get you fellers to
take me home; but, Lord bless you, don't come ashore--blast you, quit a
hittin' me over de head," added the negro, evidently to some one near
him.

Leslie and Whiteman exchanged significant glances, and silently worked
the boat further from the land.

"Who is that you spoke to?" asked the former, when they were at a safe
distance.

"Dis yere blasted limb reached down and pulled my