d firmament of his existence.
He could watch and wait for months and years, but constant watching and
patient waiting would one day reveal the opportunity which should break
his bonds, and give him the body and spirit that God had bestowed upon
him as his birthright.

Comforted by these reflections, and inspired by a new and powerful hope,
he walked down to the river again. His step was elastic, and in his
heart he had forgiven Master Archy. He determined to do all he could to
please him; to be patient and submissive even under his wayward and
petulant rule. He washed the blood from his face, and tried to wash away
the rancor which his master's conduct had kindled in his soul.

Having made his peace with himself, his master, and all mankind, he sat
down upon the stump, and took from his pocket a small Testament, which a
pedler had dared to sell him for the moderate sum of five dollars. He
read, and the blessed words gave him new hope and new courage. He felt
that he could bear any thing now; but he was mistaken, for there was an
ordeal through which, in a few hours, he was doomed to pass--an ordeal
to which his patience and submission could not reconcile him.

While he was reading, he heard the dip of oars. Restoring the volume to
his pocket, he waited the arrival of the boat. It was the barge of
Archy; but the young gentleman was not a passenger. The crew had been
sent down by Colonel Raybone to convey him back to the estate.

The blank looks of the crew seemed ominous of disaster. Even the
brilliant ivories of the ever-mirthful Cyd were veiled in darkness
beneath his ebony cheek. He looked sad and terrified, and before any of
the crew had spoken a word, Dandy was fully assured that a storm was
brewing.

"Massa Raybone done send us down to fotch you up," said Cyd, gloomily.

"What's the matter, Cyd?" demanded Dandy, trying to be cheerful in the
face of these portending clouds of darkness.

"Massa Archy done git a black eye some how or oder, and Massa Kun'l frow
'imself into a horrid passion. Den he roar and swear jes like an
alligator wid a coal o' fire in 'is troat," replied Cyd, aghast with
horror.

"Well, what then?" asked Dandy, with a long breath.

"Den he send for Long Tom."

"For Long Tom!" gasped Dandy, his cheek paling and his frame quivering
with emotion.

"Dat's de truf," replied Cyd, shaking his head.

"Long Tom" was a tall, stout negro-driver, who did the whipping upon the
plantation. He was