y-laid Charles Clancy, almost the same
hour in which the strife is taking place between them, the fugitive
slave is standing by the side of his hollow tree, on the bit of dry land
around its roots.

His air and bearing indicate intention not to stay there long. Ever and
anon he casts a glance upward, as if endeavouring to make out the time
of day. A thing not easily done in that sombre spot. For he can see no
sun, and only knows there is such by a faint reflection of its light
scarce penetrating through the close canopy of foliage overhead. Still,
this gradually growing fainter, tells him that evening is at hand.

Twilight is the hour he is waiting for, or rather some twenty minutes
preceding it. For, to a minute he knows how long it will take him to
reach the edge of the swamp, at a certain point to which he contemplates
proceeding. It is the place of deposit for the stores he receives from
the coon-hunter.

On this particular evening he expects something besides provender, and
is more than usually anxious about it. Mental, not bodily food, is what
he is craving. He hopes to get tidings of her, whose image is engraven
upon his heart--his yellow girl, Jule. For under his coarse cotton
shirt, and saddle-coloured skin, Jupe's breast burns with a love pure
and passionate, as it could, be were the skin white, and the shirt
finest linen.

He knows of all that is taking place in the plantations; is aware of
what has been done by Ephraim Darke in the matter of the mortgage, and
what is about to be done by Colonel Armstrong. The coon-hunter has kept
him posted up in everything--facts and fancies, rumours and realities.

One of the last, and latest, is the intention of the Armstrongs to
remove from the neighbourhood. He has already heard of this, as also
their destination. It might not so much concern him, but for the
implied supposition that his sweetheart will be going along with them.
In fact, he feels sure of it; an assurance that, so far from causing
regret, rather gives him gladness. It promises a happier future for
all. Jupe, too, has had thoughts about Texas. Not that the Lone Star
State is at all a safe asylum for such as he; but upon its wild
borderland there may be a chance for him to escape the bondage of
civilisation, by alliance with the savage! Even this idea of a freedom
far off, difficult of realisation, and if realised not so delectable,
has nevertheless been flitting before the mind of the