on; which
drops with a dump upon the floor. Then seats himself on a stool, but
without entering upon the demanded explanation. He only says:--

"Nebba mind, Phoebe, gal; nebba you mind why I'se got home so soon.
Dat's nuffin 'trange. I seed de night warn't a gwine to be fav'ble fo'
trackin' de coon; so dis nigga konklood he'd leab ole cooney 'lone."

"Lookee hya, Bill!" rejoins the sable spouse, laying her hand upon his
shoulder, and gazing earnestly into his eyes. "Dat ere ain't de correck
explicashun. You's not tellin' me de troof!"

The coon-hunter quails under the searching glance, as if in reality a
criminal; but still holds back the demanded explanation. He is at a
loss what to say.

"Da's somethin' mysteerus 'bout dis," continues his better half.
"You'se got a seecrit, nigga; I kin tell it by de glint ob yer eye. I
nebba see dat look on ye, but I know you ain't yaseff; jess as ye use
deseeve me, when you war in sich a way 'bout brown Bet."

"Wha you talkin 'bout, Phoebe? Dar's no brown Bet in de case. I swar
dar ain't."

"Who sayed dar war? No, Bill, dat's all pass. I only spoked ob her
'kase ya look jess now like ye did when Bet used bamboozle ye. What I
say now am dat you ain't yaseff. Dar's a cat in de bag, somewha; you
better let her out, and confess de whole troof."

As Phoebe makes this appeal, her glance rests inquiringly on her
husband's countenance, and keenly scrutinises the play of his features.

There is not much play to be observed. The coon-hunter is a
pure-blooded African, with features immobile as those of the Sphinx.
And from his colour nought can be deduced. As already said, it is the
depth of its ebon blackness, producing a purplish iridescence over the
epidermis, that has gained for him the sobriquet "Blue Bill."

Unflinchingly he stands the inquisitorial glance, and for the time
Phoebe is foiled.

Only until after supper, when the frugality of the meal--made so by the
barren chase--has perhaps something to do in melting his heart, and
relaxing his tongue. Whether this, or whatever the cause, certain it
is, that before going to bed, he unburdens himself to the partner of his
joys, by making full confession of what he has heard and seen by the
side of the cypress swamp.

He tells her, also, of the letter picked up; which, cautiously pulling
out of his pocket, he submits to her inspection.

Phoebe has once been a family servant--an indoor domestic, and
handmaiden t