ing" the young darkies, and lecturing
the old ones on the importance of working hard, and obeying "old massa,"
cheerfully in everything. And so old uncle Giles, with white and black,
with old and young, but especially with old uncle Giles himself, was a
great character. Among other things that increased his inordinate
self-esteem, was the possession of a rusty old blunderbuss, which, long
since discarded as useless by his master, had fallen into his hands, and
was regarded by him and his sable admirers as a pearl of great price.

Now it so happened, that on the morning to which our story refers, uncle
Giles was quietly smoking his pipe, and muttering solemnly to himself in
that grumbling tone so peculiar to old negroes. When he learned,
however, of the intended attack of the Indians, the old man, who well
remembered the earlier skirmishes with the savages, took his old
blunderbuss from its resting-place above the door of the kitchen, and
prepared himself for action. The old gun, which owing to the growing
infirmities of its possessor, had not been called into use for years,
was now rusted from disuse and neglect; and a bold spider had even dared
to seek, not the bubble reputation, but his more substantial gossamer
palace, at the very mouth of the barrel. Notwithstanding all this, the
gun had all the time remained loaded, for Giles was too rigid an
economist to waste a charge without some good reason. Armed with this
formidable weapon, Giles succeeded in climbing up the side of the low
cabin kitchen, by the logs which protruded from either end of the wall.
Arrived at the top and screening himself behind the rude log and mud
chimney, he awaited with a patience and immobility which Wellington
might have envied, the arrival of the foe. Here then he was quietly
seated when the conference to which we have alluded took place between
the Indian warriors.

"Bird flown," said Manteo, the leader of the party. "Nest empty."

Two or three of the braves stooped down and began to examine the soft
sandy soil to discover if there were any tracks or signs of the family
having left. Fortunately the search seemed satisfactory, for the
foot-prints of Bernard's and Hansford's horses, as they were led from
the house towards the stable on the previous evening, were still quite
visible.

This little circumstance seemed to determine the party, and they had
turned away, probably to seek their vengeance elsewhere, or to return at
a more propit