onnets.
When they had cleared the village, and reached Rosco's hut near the
entrance to the palm-grove, they went up to the open door and looked in,
but no one was there.

"He's hoed out to walk," observed Zariffa with a light laugh; "awful
fond o' walkin' since he got the 'ooden legs!"

"What was you want with him?" asked Betsy, as they resumed their walk.

"Want to ask 'bout the Bibil lesson for to-morrow. Some things me no
can understan', an' Rosco great at the Bibil now."

"Yes," murmured Betsy with a nod, "there's many things in the Bibil not
easy to understand. Takes a deal o' study, Ziffa, to make him out.
Your father always say that. But Rosco's fuss-rate at 'splainin' of
'em. Fuss-rate--so your father say. Him was born for a mis'nary."

At that moment a cry was heard in the distance. They had been ascending
a winding path leading to the field to which they were bound.

"Sounds like man in distress," said Betsy, breaking into a run with that
eager alacrity which usually characterises the sympathetic.

Zariffa replied not, but followed her mother. The cry was repeated, and
at once recognised as being uttered by the man who was "born for a
mis'nary," but had mistaken his profession when he became a pirate!
When they reached the spot whence it had apparently issued, the
mis'nary, or ex-pirate, was nowhere to be seen.

"Hooroo! whar' is you?" shouted Betsy, looking round.

"Here!" cried a half-smothered voice from somewhere in the earth.

"Oh! look!" exclaimed Zariffa in a sort of squeal as she ran towards a
spot where two strange plants seemed to have sprung up.

"Rosco's legs!" said Betsy, aghast.

And she was right. The venturesome man had, with his accustomed
hardihood, attempted that day to scale the mountain side, and had fallen
into a hole by the side of the track, from which he could by no means
extricate himself, because of its being a tightish fit, his head being
down and his legs were in the air.

"Oh, Betsy, pull me out lass! I'm half-choked already," gasped the
unfortunate man.

But Betsy could not move him, much less pull him out, although heartily
assisted by her daughter.

"Run, Ziffa, run an' fetch men!"

Ziffa ran like a hunted deer, so anxious was she for the deliverance of
her Bible instructor. On turning sharp round a bend in the track, she
plunged into the bosom of Ebony.

"Ho! hi! busted I am; why, what's de matter, Ziffa? you travel like a
cannon-ball!"

As he