Hannibal crossed to the corn-field. There, in the friendly
gloom, he examined his handkerchief and felt of the rolled-up
bill. Then he made count of certain silver and copper coins
which he had in his other pocket. Satisfied that he had
sustained no loss, he again climbed to the top rail of the fence
where he seated himself with an elbow resting on one knee and his
chin in the palm of his hand.

"I got ten dollars and seventy cents--yes, sir--and the clostest
shooting rifle I ever tossed to my shoulder." He seemed but
small to have accomplished such a feat. He meditated for a
little space. "I reckon when we strike the settlements again I
should like to buy my Uncle Bob a present." With knitted brows
he considered what this should be, canvassing Yancy's needs. He
had about decided on a ring such as Captain Murrell was wearing,
when he heard the shuffling of bare feet over the ground and a
voice spoke out of the darkness.

"When yo' get to feelin' like sleep, young boss, Mas'r Slosson he
says I show yo' to yo' chamber." It was Slosson's boy Eph.

"Did you-all happen to notice what they're doing in the tavern
now?" asked Hannibal.

"I low they're makin' a regular hog-killin' of it," said Eph
smartly. Hannibal descended from the fence.

"Yes, you can show me my chamber," he said, and his tone was
severe. What a white man did was not a matter for a black man to