came open, and discovered the weapon on which I kept a
sharp eye, during the whole time. Had he but managed to
plant that monster (and he affected to shudder,) under
my middle ribs, then would it hare been ail over with
poor Middlemore."

"There cannot be a doubt," remarked Henry Grantham.
"With Sambo and De Courcy, I well recollect the hair,
and I also particularly noticed the handle of his dagger,
which, as you perceive, has a remarkable twist in it."

All doubt was put to rest by Sambo, who, having spoken
with its possessor for a moment, now returned, bearing
the knife, at the extremity of the handle of which, was
engraved on a silver shield the letters P. E. T. A. Ens.
M. M.

"Paul, Emilius, Theophilus, Arnoldi, Ensign Michigan
Militia," pursued Grantham reading. "This then is
conclusive, and we have to congratulate ourselves that
one at least of two of the vilest scoundrels this country
ever harboured, has at length met the fate he merited."

"Fate him merit, Massa Henry," muttered the aged and
privileged negro, with something like anger in his tones,
as he returned the knife to the Indian; "he dam 'serter
from a king! No, no, he nebber deserb a die like dis. He
ought to hab a rope roun him neck and die him lying teef
like a dog."