vage nature, and the race on the steamboat had
roused it more fiercely than ever. The fat pickaninnies were a constant
temptation to him, and it had taken all Bo's watchfulness to keep him
out of dreadful mischief. Bo never feared for himself. Horatio loved him
and had even become afraid of him. It was for Horatio that he feared,
for he knew that death would be sure and swift if one of the
pickaninnies was even so much as scratched, not to mention anything
worse that might happen. Again the little boy sighed as they turned into
a clean grassy place and made ready for camp.

Long after Bosephus was asleep Horatio sat by the dying camp fire,
thinking. By and by he rose and walked out to the bank of the bayou and
looked toward the sugar house that lay white in the moonlight, half a
mile away. Then he went back to where Bo was asleep and picked up the
violin. Then he laid it down again, as though he had changed his mind,
and slipped away through the shadows in the direction of the old sugar
house. He said to himself that, as they were going in that direction and
would stop there next day, he might as well see how the road went and
what kind of a place it was. He did not own, even to himself, that it
was the negro cabins and fat pickaninnies that were in his mind, and
that down in his heart was a wicked and savage purpose. Every little way
he paused and seemed about to turn back, but he kept on. By and by he
drew near the sugar house and saw the double row of whitewashed huts in
the moonlight. It was later than he had supposed and the crowds of
little darkies that were usually playing outside had gone to bed. He
sighed and was about to turn back when suddenly he saw something
capering about near the shed of the sugar house. He slipped up nearer
and a fierce light came into his eyes. It was a little negro boy doing a
hoo-doo dance in the moonlight.

[Illustration: HE SLIPPED AWAY THROUGH THE SHADOWS.]

Suddenly the little fellow turned and saw the Bear glaring at him.
Horatio was between him and the cabins. The boy gave one wild shriek and
dashed through a small open door that led into the blackness of the
sugar house, the Bear following close behind. It was one of the old
Creole sugar houses where the syrup is poured out into open vessels to
cool and harden. The little darky knew his way and Horatio didn't. He
stumbled and fell, and growled and tried to follow the flying shadow
that was skipping and leaping and begging, "O