d have shot hundreds of pigeons, there was
so great a plenty of them. The next day, towards night, hunger became
too powerful, and he was almost spent for want of food; in this necessity
he knew not what to do; at last, happening to spy a planter's house at a
distance, he was resolved to venture down in the night, thinking he might
chance to find food of some sort or other, in or about the house:
agreeable to this resolution, he came down the tree in the middle of the
night, and, going into the planter's yard, to his great joy he found
there a parcel of milk cows penned in, which he soon milked in the crown
of his hat, making a most delicious feast, and then retired to the woods
again, climbing up into a tree, where he passed the day much more easy
than he had the preceding one.

Having found out this method of subsisting, he proceeded forwards in the
same manner, concealing himself in a tree in the day-time, and travelling
all the night, milking the cows as often as he had an opportunity; and
steering his course as near as he could guess towards Duck's Creek.

On the fifth night he heard the voices of several people near him in the
woods, upon which he stepped on one side, and concealed himself behind a
tree, till they had passed by. When he came near enough to distinguish
their words, he heard them say, we will make the best of our way to
Duck's Creek, and there we shall certainly have him. He now judged that
these were some men in pursuit of him, therefore thought himself very
happy in having so narrowly escaped them.

On the eighth day, being upon a tree, he discovered a lone house, near
the skirts of the woods, and saw all the family (as he supposed) going
out to hoe tobacco, and the dog following them; this was a joyful sight
to him, for he had not, the two preceding nights, met with any cows, and
consequently had been without food. As soon, therefore, as the family
were out of sight, he came down from the tree, and ventured in the house,
where he found not only enough to satisfy his hunger, but what might be
deemed luxury in his present condition: for there was a jolly cake,
powell, a sort of Indian corn bread, and good omani, which is
kidney-beans ground with Indian corn, sifted, then put into a pot to
boil, and eat with molasses. Seeing so many dainties, he did not
hesitate long, but, hunger pressing, sat down and ate the omani with as
much composure as if he had been invited thereto by the owner of it: a