"No, no, old man! I tell you I'm no Talbot. I've run away from a
schooner above here, and I want to get to Plymouth."

"Laws a massy! Why, I runned away myself, afore de wah. Was fo' year in
de Dismal Swamp, an' had a good time dere, too, honey. We had plenty o'
possum an' chickens an' corn-meal toted by colored folks we knowed, an'
put whar we could find it. An' we had sweet potatoes, an' simlins, an'
water-millions, an' berries, an' grapes, an' wild plums, an' wild hogs,
an' fish. Don't know as ever I'd 'a come out ef it hadn't 'a be'n de wah
freed de slaves, an' I wanted to see de ole place."

By this time the old negro was alongside, and took out a cob-pipe,
filled it, struck a light, and settled himself for a good talk, first
telling Lee that he was going fishing, at which he made his living.

Before he could begin talking again, Lee asked him in what direction he
ought to go to reach Plymouth.

"Why, honey, I'se a-goin' right dat way. My place for fishin' lays right
in dat direction. You come along o' me."

And with that the old fellow made fast his canoe to the schooner's boat,
and got in with Lee, taking one of the oars, so that they gave way
together.

After pulling for some time, the old man sounded.

"Now here I is," he then said, "in my place for fishin'. Now you see de
sun is scoffin' de fog, don't you? Well, you jus' keep de sun right in
your eyes, an' pull away, an' in less dan two hours you'll be in