"Wa'al, Mistah Sam, wat luck?"
"Poor luck, Ike," was the sad reply.
"Couldn't find de way out, eh?"
"There is no way to find. Every wall we came to is as high and steep as those about the camp," said Sam, with a sigh and an upward glance at the perpendicular cliffs that appeared to be bending over them, as if the touch of a child's hand might tumble them into the chasm.
"Undah sich sarcumstances ez dem," said Ike, very solemnly, "wat do yeh tinks best to be done?"
"We must leave here at once."
"But how's it to be did, Mistah Sam?"
"We must leave as we came."
"On de raft?"
"Yes."