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drawing up his gun as if ready for de
fence. The moment he did so, the oth
ers also brought up their guns ready for
use, and thus the negro was placed be
tween three armed men and perfectly
at their mercy.
“ We are pursuing the driver of this
wagon,” answered Mr. Davis, “ and
now that we have overtaken him, we
shall be glad to have you stay with us
while we stop him and ask a few ques
tions.”
“I’ll answer anything you ask, es
you’ll only let me keep on drivin’,” said
the negro in a pleading and rather im
patient tone. “ For the man who owns
the wagon hired me to-day to drive it
for him, and charged me to meet him at
sundown at Mr. Roberts’. But I'm
been so flustered about keepin’ the right
road, that it’s most sundown now, and
I’m ten miles off from the place. So
please let me drive on while you talk.”
“ Who does the wagon belong to ?”
“Mr. John Wiggins, that lives in the
Nation.”*
“Where were you this morning at
sun-up ?”
“At my master’s, currying his
horses.”
“ And who is your master?”
“ Madison Wiley, that lives at Chero
kee cross roads.”
“ Then you were not with the wagon
early this morning?”
“No sah ; onlysence twelve o’clock,
when Mr. Wiggins hired me.”
“ Why did he hire you to drive, in
stead of driving himself?”
“ He said he wanted to see a man off
from the big road Avho owes him some
money. So Le hired a horse from my
master to ride there through the woods,
and I am to meet him at Mr.Roberts’ at
sundown, where he is to take his wagon
again, and I am to ride back my mas
ter’s horse.”
The story was so plain and plausible
that the white men, satisfied it could
not be an invention, were about to leave
him and hurry on to Mr. Roberts’ to
meet Wiggins, when Kaneeka’s eye was
caught by a red tinge on the negro’s
shirt, as of blood partially washed out.
He whispered the fact to Phelps, and
added :
“Measure his shoe! Here,” taking
from his bosom a notched stick. “I
got measure of track he made yonder.”
“ Let us have the measure of your
foot,” said Mr. Phelps.
The negro promptly put out his bare
foot.
“ I want the measure of your shoe,”
Mr. Phelps said peremptorily.
“ Never wear shoe, ’cept on Sundays,”
the negro sulkily returned.
“Perhaps we can find a pair for you
in the wagon,” said Mr. Davis.
The negro reluctantly reached back
and drew forth a pair of buff-colored
shoes, quite wet, as if recently washed,
but having on them the stains of blood.
* So the Creeks were called.
BURKE’S WEEKLY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
“ I killed a pig for my master,” said
the negro, disconcerted for the first
time, “and the blood got on my shoes
and my clothes too.”
“ I thought you told us just now that
you never wore shoes except on Sun
days,” interposed Mr. Davis.
“No more’n I don’t,” said the negro
suddenly recovering confidence; “ for
them shoes ain’t mine. They are Mr.
Wiggins’. I lef’ mine at home.”
The shoes were compared with the
measure brought by Kaneeka, and they
answered exactly to the notches, length
for length and breadth for breadth.
“ My man,” said Mr. Phelps, exceed
ingly perplexed to decide whether the
negro was telling the truth, or whether
he was the most expert liar he had ever
met, “ we will not stop you longer. We
will go witn you to Mr. Roberts’, and
meet the owner of the wagon, whose
name you say is Wiggins. But, first of
all, you must give up that gun we see
in the wagon, and then you must go on
with us very quietly, and make no at
tempt to escape, unless you have a fan
cy for being shot.”
The negro submitted with excellent
grace, though his face assumed for a
moment a fierce expression as he held
firmly to the gun, and gave it up only
when he saw two other guns pointed at
his bosom, saying as he released his
hold.
“ Everything in this wagon is Mr.
Wiggins’, and I am bound to give ’em
all safe to him at Mr. Roberts’.”
They pushed on together, and reach
ed the house a little before dark, when
Mr. Roberts was called out and asked
if a Mr. Wiggins was there.
“What! John Wiggins of the Na
tion? that horse-stealing scamp!” he
inquired, and being answered affirma
tively, continued: “No, sir-r! no lead
er of the Pony Club, nor member of it
either, enters that door with my consent.
I have lost too much by them already.”
He was asked if a covered two-horse
wagon had passed his house the day be
fore.
“ It put up with me last night,” he
answered with a look of great uneasi
ness. “ I hope no harm has happened
to the pleasant old man and his curly
headed daughter.”
He then gave an accurate description
of the parties, including the negro dri
ver ; said that the old man informed
him he was known at home as “ Mon
sher Perro;” that he lived in Abbe
ville, South Carolina ; that he had been
on a visit to a married daughter in Ala
bama, with his youngest child, “ Mam
zelAleze;” and that he had stopped
in “the Nation” with John Wiggins,
from whom he obtained his negro
driver.
He seemed painfully shocked when
informed of the horrid facts, and did
not hesitate to utter dark suspicions as
to the complicity in them of Wiggins
himself. The wagon, horses and driver
he instantly identified.
“ Will you not help us now to make
our prisoner secure for the night?” ask
ed Mr. Phelps. “A light supple cord
might do for tying his hands, or a chain,
with two padlocks, for hampering his
feet. ’ ’
Mr. Roberts went into the house and
brought from it several yards of cord,
saying that chains and padlocks were
rather scarce in anew country.
“ This cord is strong enough to hold
an ox,” said Mr. Phelps examining it,
“ but too stiff to hold a man like this.
He would work and worry his hands
through it in spite of you. I can make
him far more secure by means of a large
needle and thread.”
Again Mr. Roberts went into the
house, and having brought what was
desired, Mr. Phelps said :
“ I perceive that his clothes are made
of homespun, and I propose to use them
in making for him a straight jacket
which shall confine him from head to
foot.”
He, first of all, made the prisoner put
on his coat, the sleeves of which were
long and full; then with a small string
he tied his thumbs and little fingers to
gether, so that the hands lay back to
back behind him.
“This alone would suffice for an or
dinary man,” said Mr. Phelps, “but
as this fellow seems to be an extra-or
dinary scoundrel, I will now proceed
with the straight-jacket.”
So saying, he buttoned the negro’s
coat in front, and in addition sewed its
lapping parts together at the buttons;
then drawing down the sleeves, or ra
ther unrolling the cuffs, so that each
could meet the other, he sewed their
ends together over the hands, thus ma
king one long sleeve for the two arms,
instead of one for each. That being
done, he sewed the elbows of the sleeves
closely and strongly down to the coat,
and concluded by saying:
“Here is a straight-jacket made out
of a man’s own coat, easy to wear, yet
strong enough for a maniac. I’ll war
rant he doesn’t get out of it without
help. There is one thing more I will
do, but we must first conduct him where
he is to spend the night.”
Mr. Phelps then went with Mr. Rob
erts into the house, selected a room in
which captors, captive, and baggage
might be safely kept together, brought
in the prisoner, seated him comfortably
for the night, and proceeded to the last
act necessary for securing him, which
consisted in sewing together the legs of
his pantaloons, and then tying him fast
to his chair.
“ Strong and cunning as he may be,
I think he is safe now,” said he.
».«.*
“ Boys, what is all this noise in the
school?”
“ It’s Bill Slikes imitating a locomo
tive.”
“ Come up here, William ; if you
have turned into a locomotive, it is time
you were switched off.”
Over and Over Again,
and over again,
I No matter which way I turn,
a * ways f in< l th® hook of Life
fLoine lesson I have to learn.
I must take my turn at the mil],
I must grind out the golden grain,
I must work at my task, with a reso
lute will,
Over and over again.
We cannot measure the need
Os even the tiniest flower,
Nor check the flow of the golden sands,
That run through a single hour.
But the morning dews must fall,
And the sun and the summer rain
Must do their part, and perform it all
Over and over again.
Over and over again
The brook through the meadow flows,
And over and over again
The ponderous mill-wheel goes.
Once doing will net suffice,
Though doing be not in vain;
And a blessing, failing us once or twice,
May come, if we try again.
The path that has once been trod
Is never so rough to the feet :
And the lesson we once have learned
Is never o hard to repeat.
Though sorrowful tears may fall,
And the heart to its depths be riven
With storm and tempest, we need them all
To render us meet for Heaven.
Diving.
The greatest depth to which a diver
can descend is about 100 feet, and for
this a bunch of hundred weights must be
disposed about his person. The aver
age depth at which he can work com
fortably is about 90 feet, which was near
the depth at which the operations upon
the Royal George were conducted. In
water from 00 to 70 feet deep, the men
can work t*vo hours at a time, coming
up for a ten minutes’ rest, and doing a
day’s work of six or seven hours. An
English diver went down in the Medi
terranean to a depth of 105 feet, and
remained there for 25 minutes; and
Green inspected a wreck in a depth ol
170 feet; but his experience was enough
to convince him that he could not work
on it without danger of life. At this
depth the pressure of the water on
the hands is so great as to force
the blood to the head, and bring on
fainting fits, while the requisite volume
of air inside the dress to resist the out
ward pressure of the water, is so great
that it would speedily suffocate.
—. «
Suggestive,
Rev. Dr. Breckinridge was examining
once a dull student who had an invet
erate habit of answering one question
by asking another.
“ Where,” inquired the Doctor, “was
Solomon’s Temple?”
“Hem —do you refer to its location,
sir. ?”
“Yes,” growled the Doctor, in his
deepest tones, “I refer to its location, or
to any thing else about it that may be
embraced under the word ‘where.’ ”
Fools make feasts and wise men eat
them.