nigger ebber bin in one ob dem ar cooners,
an' him hope he be good an' daid befo' him ebber sperimentin' wif um
agen!"

Quorum had come from the great house, where the _Cupid_ was the sole
craft to be had. It was only after hours of persuasion and
semi-starvation that he had been induced by the other refugees to make
the trip to the raft, which they had discovered soon after daylight.
He described a pitiful state of affairs as existing among the hungry
throng he had just left, and declared that another day without food
would witness great suffering in the crowded house.

Even as he related his story, those gathered about him were startled by
the shrill note of a steam-whistle coming from the direction of the
river. Sumner had found relief, and was bringing it to them.

During the hours that passed so slowly on the raft, the brave little
_Psyche_ had cruised here and there over the broad Mississippi sea, now
hailing some boat that refused to stop, and then chasing another that
it failed to overtake. Finally, late in the afternoon, Sumner
discovered a trail of black smoke coming up-stream and towards him. As
he anxiously watched it, trying to decide which way he should go to
head it off, he discovered a white banner with a scarlet cross flying
out cheerily just beneath the trail of smoke. Then he knew that help
was at hand, and no matter what other boats might do, that one would
stop at his signal.

As it drew near, he was amazed to see that instead of a river steamer,
such as he had expected, the red-cross boat was a fine sea-going yacht;
and as she came dashing towards him, her sharp stem cleaving the brown
waters like a knife, her shining black hull, varnished houses, polished
metal, and plate-glass flashing in the light of the setting sun, this
sailor son of a sailor father thought her the most beautiful thing he
had ever seen. She slowed down at his signal, and in another minute he
was alongside.

A line was flung to him, and making it fast to the _Psyche's_ painter,
he clambered up a ladder that had been dropped from the gangway. As he
reached the deck, a fine-looking young fellow, apparently but little
older than himself, and wearing a natty yachting uniform, stepped
forward to meet him.

Sumner briefly explained his errand, and pointing to the red-cross flag
at the foremast-head, added that he believed aid might be expected from
those who sailed under it.

"Indeed it may," responded the other, hea