rface of his sable epidermis. Otherwise he is
black as ebony.

Blue Bill is a mighty hunter of his kind, passionately fond of the
coon-chase--too much, indeed, for his own personal safety. It carries
him abroad, when the discipline of the plantation requires him to be at
home; and more than once, for so absenting himself, have his shoulders
been scored by the "cowskin."

Still the punishment has not cured him of his proclivity. Unluckily for
Richard Darke, it has not. For on the evening of Clancy's being shot
down, as described, Blue Bill chances to be abroad; and, with a small
cur, which he has trained to his favourite chase, is scouring the timber
near the edge of the cypress swamp.

He has "treed" an old he-coon, and is just preparing to ascend to the
creature's nest--a cavity in a sycamore high up--when a deer comes
dashing by. Soon after a shot startles him. He is more disturbed at
the peculiar crack, than by the mere fact of its being the report of a
gun. His ear, accustomed to such sounds, tells him the report has
proceeded from a fowling-piece, belonging to his young master--just then
the last man he would wish to meet. He is away from the "quarter"
without "pass," or permission of any kind.

His first impulse is, to continue the ascent of the sycamore, and
conceal himself among its branches.

But his dog, remaining below--that will betray him?

While hurriedly reflecting on what he had best do, he hears a second
shot. Then a third, coming quickly after; while preceding, and mingling
with the reports are men's voices, apparently in mad expostulation. He
hears, too, the angry growling of a hound, at intervals barking and
baying.

"Gorramity!" mutters Blue Bill; "dar's a skrimmage goin' on dar--a
_fight_, I reck'n, an' seemin' to be def! Clar enuf who dat fight's
between. De fuss shot wa' Mass' Dick's double-barrel; de oder am Charl
Clancy rifle. By golly! 'taint safe dis child be seen hya, no how.
Whar kin a hide maseff?"

Again he glances upward, scanning the sycamore: then down at his dog;
and once more to the trunk of the tree. This is embraced by a creeper--
a gigantic grape-vine--up which an ascent may easily be made; so easily,
there need be no difficulty in carrying the cur along. It was the
ladder he intended using to get at the treed coon.

With the fear of his young master coming past--and if so, surely
"cow-hiding" him--he feels there is no time to be wasted in vacillation.