rd es though he been bo'n in de woods. Honey, ol' Breed'll
tek care ob you. I'll git you one o' dem night rails Marse Nick has, and
some ob his'n close in de mawnin'."

These things I remember, and likewise sobbing myself to sleep in the
four-poster. Often since I have wished that I had questioned Breed
of many things on which I had no curiosity then, for he was my chief
companion in the weeks that followed. He awoke me bright and early the
next day.

"Heah's some close o' Marse Nick's you kin wear, honey," he said.

"Who is Master Nick?" I asked.

Breed slapped his thigh.

"Marse Nick Temple, Marsa's son. He's 'bout you size, but he ain' no mo'
laik you den a Jack rabbit's laik an' owl. Dey ain' none laik Marse Nick
fo' gittin' into trouble-and gittin' out agin."

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"He at Temple Bow, on de Ashley Ribber. Dat's de Marsa's barony."

"His what?"

"De place whah he lib at, in de country."

"And why isn't the master there?"

I remember that Breed gave a wink, and led me out of the window onto a
gallery above the one where we had found the master the night before.
He pointed across the dense foliage of the garden to a strip of water
gleaming in the morning sun beyond.

"See dat boat?" said the negro. "Sometime de Marse he tek ar ride in dat
boat at night. Sometime gentlemen comes heah in a pow'ful hurry to git
away, out'n de harbor whah de English is at."

By that time I was dressed, and marvellously uncomfortable in Master
Nick's clothes. But as I was going out of the door, Breed hailed me.

"Marse Dave,"--it was the first time I had been called that,--"Marse
Dave, you ain't gwineter tell?"

"Tell what?" I asked.

"Bout'n de boat, and Marsa agwine away nights."

"No," said I, indignantly.

"I knowed you wahn't," said Breed. "You don' look as if you'd tell
anything."

We found the master pacing the lower gallery. At first he barely glanced
at me, and nodded. After a while he stopped, and began to put to me many
questions about my life: when and how I had lived. And to some of my
answers he exclaimed, "Good God!" That was all. He was a handsome man,
with hands like a woman's, well set off by the lace at his sleeves. He
had fine-cut features, and the white linen he wore was most becoming.

"David," said he, at length, and I noted that he lowered his voice,
"David, you seem a discreet lad. Pay attention to what I tell you. And
mark! if you disobey me, you will be well whippe