its bark
gnarled and corrugated as the skin of an alligator.

This grim Titan of the forest, o'ertopping the other trees like a giant
among men, stands alone, as though it had commanded them to keep their
distance. And they seem to obey. Nearer than thirty yards to it none
grow, nor so much as an underwood. It were easy to fancy it their
monarch, and them not daring to intrude upon the domain it has set apart
for itself.

With the moon now in the zenith, its shadow extends equally on all sides
of its huge trunk, darkening half the surface of the glade--the other
half in light, forming an illuminated ring around it. There could be no
mistaking it for other than the "big tree," referred to in the dialogue
between the two robbers; and that they recognise it as such is evident
by their action. Soon as sighting it, they head straight towards its
stem, and halting, slip down out of their saddles, having undone the
cords by which the captives were attached to them.

When dismounted, the lieutenant, drawing Bosley a step or two apart,
says:--

"You stay here, Bill, and keep your prisoner company. I want a word
with mine before our fellows come up, and as it's of a private nature,
I'm going to take her to the other side of the tree."

The direction is given in tone so low the captives cannot hear it; at
the same time authoritatively, to secure Bill's obedience. He has no
intention of refusing it. On the contrary, he responds with
alacrity:--"All right. I understand." This spoken as if implying
consent to some sinister purpose on the part of his superior. Without
further words, the lieutenant lays hold of his horse's rein, and leads
the animal round to the other side of the live-oak, his captive still in
the saddle. Thus separated, the two men are not only out of each
other's sight, but beyond the chance of exchanging speech. Between them
is the buttressed trunk many yards in breadth, dark and frowning as the
battlements of a fortress. Besides, the air is filled with noises, the
skirling of tree-crickets, and other sounds of animated nature that
disturb the tranquillity of the southern night. They could only
communicate with one another by shouting at the highest pitch of their
voices. Just now they have no need, and each proceeds to act for
himself.

Bosley, soon as left alone with his captive, bethinks him what he had
best do with her. He knows he must treat her tenderly, even
respectfully. He has had