"All right, Cunnel; say no more 'bout thet. Will ye send fur 'em? I'd hev fotched 'em 'long, but my waggin's off jest now."

"Yes, I'll send at once. Have you got them safe?"

"Safe? I reckon so! Kotched 'em last night, arter dark, and they've kept right still ever sense, I 'sure ye—but th' gal holds on ter th' young 'un ter kill—we cudn't get it 'way no how."

"How did you catch them?"

"They got 'gainst my turpentime raft—the curren' driv 'em down, I s'pose."

"What! are they dead?"

"Dead? deader'n drownded rats!" replied the native,

"My God! drowned herself and her child!" exclaimed the Colonel, with deep emotion.

"It is terrible, my friend. Come, let us go to them, at once," I said, laying my hand on his arm, and drawing him unresistingly away.

A pair of mules was speedily harnessed to a large turpentine wagon, and the horses we had ridden the day before were soon at the door. When the Colonel, who had been closeted for a few minutes with Madam P——, came out of the house, we mounted, and rode off with the "corn-cracker."