lendidly healthy fellow,
and--"

"Well, he arn't now, sir, anyhow," said Morgan. "What'll I do with
young coal-box, sir? Better chain him up in the shed, hadn't I, or
he'll be off?"

My father did not reply for some moments, but stood watching the boy, as
he lay with his bright eyes fixed on first one and then the other, like
a wild creature ready to act on its defence.

"He must have known a good deal of this negro," said my father,
thoughtfully. "Go and slacken that rope."

"If I do, sir, he'll go off like a 'coon, and we shall never see him
again," said Morgan.

"Did you hear my orders?" said my father, in the sharp military way in
which he spoke sometimes.

Morgan went to the ring-bolt, and began to unfasten the rope, when at
the first quiver the boy half started up and remained crouching, ready
to spring away.

"Shall I go on, sir?" said Morgan.

"Yes; slacken the rope sufficiently to let him reach the man."

"He'll make a dash for it, Master George," grumbled Morgan.

He was right, for the boy did make a dash as soon as he saw that the
rope which tethered him to the tree was loosened, but only to creep
close up to the negro, thrust his arm under his neck, and press close to
his side.

"I thought so," said my father. "Draw that rope from the shackles."

"What, undo him altogether, sir?"

"Yes."

"Oh, all right, Master George," grumbled Morgan to me. "I could have
leathered the young imp into shape, and made a labourer of him in time;
but if your father likes to waste his money it is no business of mine."

My father's back was towards us, and he was standing at some little
distance so as not to startle the boy, who rose again, crouched, and
looked wildly at us, as the rope which had been simply passed through
the iron shackles began to run through a link till the end was drawn
out, and run over the ground to where Morgan stood grumbling and coiling
up the rope.

"No, he will not," said my father, gravely. "There is something
stronger than hempen rope to hold him, George, evidently. Unless I am
much mistaken, he will not leave the poor fellow's side."

"Ah, well, sir," said Morgan, as he hung the rope on the stump of a
branch, "they're your niggers, and niggers _is_ niggers. I shouldn't
trust 'em, and they'll cut and run."

"If they do, my man, I shall be sorry," said my father, gravely, "for
they may fall into worse hands than ours. We have no key to those
shackles; could you turn t