No more sudden than the killing of the panther—the water spout, and falling into my hands.
A lucky fall for me, father.
But now you will fall into good hands. Captain Davis is a gentleman, and already feels interested in you, as if you were his own child, and would like to have you take his name.
That can never be. My name is Walter Wallace, and ever shall be.
But you must be getting ready to depart. Sambo will assist you in packing and removing your trunk to the vessel.
Sambo had been an attentive listener to what had passed between the parties, and looked upon the whole matter with distrust.
Will Massa Webb excuse Sambo? ejaculated the negro.
Walter looked at him in surprise. He had always been a faithful, loyal servant, and seemed to be dearly attached to Walter.
Certainly, Sambo, if you can give a good reason, said Webb.
Give reason? Yes, Sambo give the goodest of reasons. Ship sail to-morrow—to-morrow hangman’s day, to-morrow Friday. Bad day—bad luck—wind blow—ship sink—Massa Walt get drowned—sharks eat him up—Sambo see young Massa no more. Here the faithful black broke down, and cried like a child.