ter than staying here
a bit, if we could go about the river and swamp and woods, fishing and
shooting, and hunting or trapping; but one gets too much zun on one's
back, and when it's always chopping weeds with a hoe, and the weeds grow
faster than you can chop, one gets tired of it. Pretty country, Master
Nic; most as good as home, only zun is a bit too warm."

Nic sighed.

"That's 'cause you wants to write letters and get 'em sent, Master Nic,
I know; but don't you worry 'bout that. You can't send letters here
like you do at home, so it aren't no use to worry about what you can't
do. Worry 'bout finding the boat, dear lad; that's better than
letters."

"I have worried about it," said Nic, "but it is of no use till we get a
chance to go and wander about to try and discover where it is kept."

"And that the skipper and old Zaunders won't let us do, you zee," said
Pete quietly. "They're a wicked pair, both on 'em. Might let us loose
a bit on Zundays; but not they. Zunday and week-days all the zame.
They've got us, and they mean to have their penn'orth out on us. Never
thought as I should have all my strength turned into sugar for some one
else to eat. There, work away; old Humpy's watching us, and he'll go
and tell the skipper we're hatching eggs."

Nic smiled, for his companion's good temper and patience were
contagious, but he could not repress a sigh from time to time as he
thought of home; and the beauty of the country, the waving fields of
tasselled Indian-corn or beautiful sugar-cane, with the silver river
beyond, the glorious slopes leading up to the distant blue mountains,
and the gloomy, green, mysterious attraction of the swampy forest
enhancing its attractions to an explorer, did not compensate for the
absence of liberty, though Nic was fain to confess that the plantation
would have been a glorious place for a few months' visit.

The blacks were not friendly, as Nic soon found; but he attributed it to
the stern orders they had received; but now and then one or another made
a little advance, by offering, on the sly, fish or flesh in the shape of
bird or 'possum which he had caught or trapped during the moonlight
nights. For Saunders seemed to pay no heed to the black slaves slipping
away of a night on some excursion.

"'Nuff to make a man wish for a kettle o' tar, or a pot o' black paint,"
said Pete one day. "What for, sir? Just to put on a coat of it, and
change the colour of one's skin. The