in the world, saying, "It was only one of his people who had died that
morning of yellow fever."

"Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant morning we
have had of it, Tom!"


_III.--The Piccaroon_


From the Spanish headquarters at Torrecilla we were allowed to go to the
village of Turbaco, a few miles distant from the city for change of air.

"Why, Peter," said Mr. Splinter, addressing a negro who sat mending his
jacket in one of the enclosures near the water gate of the arsenal,
"don't you know me?"

"Cannot say dat I do," rejoined the negro, very gravely. "Have not de
honour of your acquaintance, sir."

"Confound you, sir! But I know you well enough, my man; and you can
scarcely have forgotten Lieutenant Splinter of the Torch, one would
think?"

The name so startled the poor fellow, that in his hurry to unlace his
legs, as he sat tailor-fashion, he fairly capsized and toppled down on
his nose.

"Eh!--no--yes, him sure enough! And who is de piccaniny hofficer? Oh! I
see, Massa Tom Cringle! Where have you dropped from, gentlemen? Where is