caught in the vicinity. This was his position when the captain found
him. He proceeded to Charleston, and laid his case before James L.
Petigru, Esq., United States District Attorney, and, upon his advice,
returned to the scene of "war on the banks of the Edisto," to arrange
his business; but no sooner had he made his appearance than he was
thrown into prison, and there remained when we last heard of him.

This is one of the many cases which afford matter for exciting comment
for the editors of the Charleston Mercury and the Courier, and which
reflect no honor on a people who thus set law and order at defiance.

CHAPTER XXVI. A SINGULAR RECEPTION.

IT was about ten o'clock on the night of the fifteenth of April when the
schooner "Three Sisters" lay anchored close alongside of a dark jungle
of clustering brakes that hung their luxuriant foliage upon the bosom
of the stream. The captain sat upon a little box near the quarter,
apparently contemplating the scene, for there was a fairy-like beauty
in its dark windings, mellowed by the shadowing foliage that skirted
its borders in mournful grandeur, while stars twinkled on the sombre
surface.

The tide had just turned, and little Tommy, who had rolled himself up in
a blanket and laid down close to the captain, suddenly arose. "Captain,
did you hear that?" said he.

"Hark! there it is again," said the captain. "Go and call the men,--we
must get under weigh."

It was a rustling noise among the brakes; and when little Tommy went
forward to call the men, two balls came whistling over the quarter, and
then a loud rustling noise indicated that persons were retreating. The
captain retired to the cabin and took Tommy with him, giving orders to
the negro pilot to stand to the deck, get her anchor up, and let her
drift up stream with the tide, determined that if they shot any person,
it should be the negroes, for whose value they would be held answerable.
Thus she drifted up the stream, and the next morning was at the creek at
Colonel Whaley's plantation.

A number of ragged negroes came down to the bank in high glee at the
arrival, and making sundry inquiries about corn and bacon. One old
patriarchal subject cried out to the pilot, "Ah, Cesar, I 'now'd ye wah
cumin'. Massa, an' young Massa Aleck, bin promis' bacon mor' den week,
gess he cum' now."

"Got sum corn, but ven ye gets bacon out o' dis craf' ye kotch wesel,
dat a'n't got no hair on 'im," said Cesar.

T