"Have you told him so?"
"Yes."
"And how do you mean to get away?"
"I don't know; but I mean it."
After a pause, he said in a low voice to A.,
"Could not you give me a file?"
"No," said A., decidedly. "Do you think I don't know the law? Do you think I am going to help you away, and get punished for it? No; I can't give you a file."
As A. went back to his boat he saw the slave looking wistfully after him, and his heart smote him for what he had said. He bethought himself that if he could manage to put an instrument of deliverance in the man's way without touching it, he might keep within the letter of the law, and he acted upon this notion. He looked about his boat, and found a strong three-sided file, which he put between his coat and waistcoat, so that it would be sure to drop out when the coat was unbuttoned. He sauntered back on shore, and the mulatto, who watched all his movements, came up to him, eagerly whispering,
"Have you got a file? Are you going to give me a file?"
"No," said A. "I told you that I knew better than to give you a file."