fely anchored, the engineer gone, the old Captain bustling about on
the roof of the boat, making all snug and shipshape for the coming
night, every heart was light. None more so than those of the colored
folks, always in the habit of leaving care to "their white" friends
and like children in their readiness to forget the past.

Ephraim didn't leap the plank, his "roomaticals" prevented; but he
displayed a marvelous agility in getting ashore and speed in following
the vanishing lads.

"What's up?" demanded Melvin, running to where Chloe stood, holding
her sides and shaking with laughter, "where have they gone?"

"Maggotty millyouns! Spyed a millyoun patch ovah yondah an'--Lan' ob
Goshen! If he ain' done gwine, too! Well, my sake! Mebbe Chloe doan'
lub millyouns same's anuddah, mebbe!"

As Melvin disappeared over the side, his own mouth watering for the
southern delicacies so rare to his own northern home, mistress Chloe
gathered up her petticoats and sprang ashore.

Little Methuselah called after her but she did not pause. She meant to
get her own share from that distant melon-patch, and her maternal ears
were deaf to his outcries.

Sharing the common feeling of repose and safety which had fallen upon
all the company when the Water Lily had been tied up for the night,
Metty had felt it a fine time to don his livery and show off his
finery before the white folks. Clad in its loose misfit, but proud as
ever, he clung to the stern-rail of the Pad and gazed after his
departing parent.

What had happened? Why were all those people running away so fast? Was
another frightful tempest coming?

"Mammy! Mam-my! Lemme! Lemme come! Mammy, Mammy, wait--I'se com----"

A point on the water side of the Pad commanded a better view of the
fleeing figures, climbing the gentle rise of ground beyond. Thither
the little fellow rushed; gave one glance downward into the water and
another upon his gorgeous attire; then upward and onward where a fold
of scarlet calico fluttered like a signal; shut his great eyes, and
leaped.

Alas! The fat little legs couldn't compass that space! and Methuselah
Bonaparte Washington Brown sank beneath the waves his own impact had
created.

CHAPTER VI.

A MULE AND MELON TRANSACTION.

The five melon-hungry deserters from the Water Lily came breathlessly
to the "snake" rail-fence which bordered the "patch" and paused with
what Gerald called "neatness and dispatch."

Suddenly there rose from