t's hiding-place was laid
bare, for it glided out from among the waving canes, and there was
Samson standing upright, dipping the pole first on one side, then on the
other, sending the boat across as it glided down with the stream, passed
the watcher, and evidently was being directed for the other creek.

"Poor old Pete, how glad he'll be!" thought Nic. "That's it, plain
enough; kept over there because they think no one would dare to swim
across; but we dare."

"Dare we?" said Nic to himself the next minute, as he saw an unusually
large alligator make a swirl in the water and dart by; and he shuddered
as the thought occurred to him that, though the reptiles might not touch
the blacks, with a white man it might mean something very different.

"Ugh! you little beast," he muttered, as there was a rustle in the moist
patch of jungle, and he caught sight of the loathsome blunt muzzle of
what looked like a monstrous eft staring hard at him, not a couple of
yards distant.

A quick movement sent the reptile scuffling away; then there was a
splash, and forgetful entirely of his thirst, Nic hurried back, feeling
a lingering doubt as to whether the settler or his overseer might not
have been to the field during his absence, as they were certainly not
gone.

But upon reaching the place where he had left his hoe, there it lay with
the handle too hot to hold, and the slave close at hand, shining and
happy, fast asleep, with his mouth open, and the red lips attracting the
flies, as if it were some huge ugly red blossom from which they might
sip.

That day seemed as if it would never come to an end. But at sunset the
conch shell was blown, and the black started up, just as Nic
straightened his weary back, and came slowly towards him down the row he
had hoed.

"Um tink um been fass 'sleep, sah," said the black, grinning. "You tell
Mass' Saunder? No, you not tell um, and me shut de eye nex' time you go
'sleep."

"I shan't tell tales," said Nic good-humouredly. "But I say, do you
ever think about running away?"

"Run away? What for? No use run away. Set dogs to catch you 'gain.
An' if dogs not catch um, where run to? Plantations all alike."

"To you," thought Nic. "Yes; where could he run to--back to Africa?
What then? Only to be caught and sold again. Poor wretch! Worse off
than I. There is no pleasant Devon for him to reach, as we must and
will reach it some day. Yes, there are slaves far worse off than I.
W