the fun
which it is said they derive from these scenes.

The company had been in the woods but a short time ere they go on the
track of two fugitives, once of whom was Jerome. The slaves immediately
bent their steps toward the swamp, with the hope that the dogs, when put
upon their scent would be unable to follow them through the water.

The slaves then took a straight course for the Baton Rouge and Bayou
Sara road, about four miles distant. Nearer and nearer the whimpering
pack pressed; their delusion begins to dispel. All at once the truth
flashes upon the minds of the fugitives like a glare of light,--'tis
Tabor with his dogs!

The scent becomes warmer and warmer, and what was at first an irregular
cry now deepens into one ceaseless roar, as the relentless pack presses
on after its human prey.

They at last reach the river, and in the negroes plunge, followed by the
catch-dog. Jerome is caught and is once more in the hands of his master,
while the other poor fellow finds a watery grave. They return, and the
preacher sends his slave to jail.

CHAPTER XIX. THE TRUE HEROINE

IN vain did Georgiana try to console Clotelle, when the latter heard,
through one of the other slaves, that Mr. Wilson had started with the
dogs in pursuit of Jerome. The poor girl well knew that he would be
caught, and that severe punishment, if not death, would be the result of
his capture. It was therefore with a heart filled with the deepest grief
that the slave-girl heard the footsteps of her master on his return from
the chase. The dogged and stern manner of the preacher forbade even his
daughter inquiring as to the success of his pursuit. Georgiana secretly
hoped that the fugitive had not bee caught; she wished it for the
sake of the slave, and more especially for her maid-servant, whom she
regarded more as a companion than a menial. But the news of the capture
of Jerome soon spread through the parson's household, and found its way
to the ears of the weeping and heart-stricken Clotelle.

The reverend gentleman had not been home more than an hour ere some of
his parishioners called to know if they should not take the negro from
the prison and execute _Lynch law_ upon him.

"No negro should be permitted to live after striking a white man; let us
take him and hang him at once," remarked an elderly-looking man, whose
gray hairs thinly covered the crown of his head.

"I think the deacon is right," said another of the company; "if