"Hallo, here--where's Pete York?" demanded the Jew, looking around upon
the sable assembly with an air of authority.

A small, very black and hideous looking negro stepped forward in answer
to the name, with a grin that would not have disgraced the very devil
himself.

"Dat's me, master," said he. (It may be as well to remark here, that
this negro was soon afterwards sentenced to be hung for an atrocious
murder, in Ann street. His sentence was, however, commuted by the
Governor to imprisonment for life. He is now comfortably located in the
Charlestown State Prison.)

"Well, then, you black scorpion, I wish you to take charge of this old
fellow, and let him not escape, as you value your life. Keep him here
safely for a day or two, and I'll reward you well for your trouble.
Sooner than let him escape, _kill him_--do you hear?"

The negro _did_ hear, and perfectly comprehended, also. He replied not
in words, but in expressive pantomime. Drawing a knife from his belt, he
passed his finger approvingly along its glittering edge--then he drew it
lightly across his own throat, in the immediate vicinity of his
windpipe; by which actions he meant to intimate that should the old
gentleman, with whose guardianship he had the honor to be entrusted,
manifest the least inclination to "give him the slip," he, Mr. Peter
York, would, in the most scientific manner, merely cut his throat from
ear to ear, as a particular token of his warm personal regard. Jew Mike
appeared perfectly satisfied with the assurance thus eloquently
conveyed, and, accompanied by Sow Nance, left the cellar, leaving the
Corporal to the tender mercies of as desperate a band of villains and
cut-throats as ever prowled about in the dark alleys and underground
dens of Ann street.

"Now, my good fellow," said the old gentleman, addressing the negro
whose prisoner he now was--"you had better instantly unbind me, and
suffer me to take my departure from this infernal trap. Give me my
liberty, and I will pay you ten times the sum that your Jew friend can
afford to give you for detaining me here. What say you?"

"Oh, you shut up!" responded Pete York--"you s'pose I'm going to b'lieve
any such gas as dat? You look like paying more money than Jew Mike, and
not a decent coat on your back! Hush up your mouf, or you'll get this
knife a-twixt your ribs in less than no time."

The black ruffian, in order to convince his prisoner that he meant what
he said, pressed the sha