only by catching hold of a friendly bush that he saved himself
from following David over the bluff.

"Dog-gone my buttons!" thought Godfrey, gazing in astonishment at the
bubbles on the surface of the water, which marked the spot where
David had gone down. "Who'd a thought he would a jumped into the
Bayou sooner nor take a leetle trouncin'? He's gettin' to be a
powerful bad boy, Dave is, an' I had oughter be to hum every day to
keep him straight. Come back here!" he shouted, as the fugitive's
head suddenly bobbed up out of the water. "If you'll ketch the pinter
fur me an' promise to say nothin' to nobody, I'll let you off this
time."

David could not say a word in reply. He felt as if every drop of
blood in his body had been turned into ice. He wiped the water from
his eyes, glanced over his shoulder, to make sure that his father had
not followed him into the bayou, and struck out for the opposite
bank. Godfrey coaxed, promised and threatened to no purpose. David
would not come back, and neither would he make any answer. He held as
straight across the bayou as the current would permit, and when he
reached the shore, he climbed out and disappeared in the bushes.

"He's gone," thought Godfrey, throwing away his switch and slowly
retracing his steps toward the camp, "an' here's more trouble for me.
The pinter's gone too, an' that takes money outen my pocket an' puts
it into the pockets of them pizen Gordons. Dave'll tell everything he
knows as soon as he gets hum, an' that'll bring the constable up here
arter me. I must go furder back in the cane, but I won't go outen the
settlement, an' nobody shan't drive me out nuther, till I get my
hands onto them hundred an' fifty dollars. Then nobody won't ever
hear of me ag'in--Dan nor none of 'em. It's jest a trifle comfortin'
to know that that thar mean Dave can't do no more shootin'; he lost
his gun."

Yes, David's faithful friend and companion was gone. It slipped from
his grasp as he struck the water, and was now lying at the bottom of
the bayou. He felt the loss as keenly as Don Gordon would have felt
the loss of his fine breech-loader.

David thought he had never before been so nearly frozen as he was
when he struck the opposite bank of the bayou; but a few minutes'
vigorous exercise put his blood in circulation again, and then he
began to feel more comfortable. He followed the bayou until he
reached the lake, and then he plunged into the water again, and swam
across