At the end of the bye-road upon which the backwoodsman’s dwelling stood, he encountered the very tool suitable for his purpose.
It was in the person of a negro, with a skin black as Erebus, who was seen perched upon the top of a tall fence.
He was odd enough looking to attract the attention of the most careless traveller.
His head, denuded of the old ragged piece of felt he called hat, was unusually large, and covered with an enormous shock of tightly-curling wool.
This did not, however, conceal the apeish form of the skull, that bore a strong resemblance to that of a chimpanzee.
Rolling and sparkling in a field of white, were eyes preternaturally large, and wickedly expressive, above a nose and mouth of the strongest African type.
His arms were ludicrously long, and seemed by their unusual proportions to make up for the shortness, and impish form of the body.
He was whistling in a discordant strain some wild melody, and kicking his heels about like one possessed.
As Warren Rody approached, he paused in his ear-splitting music, and leaped nimbly from his perch, whilst flourishing his tattered felt in a sort of salutation.
It might have been observed that he was lame, and the few halting steps he took imparted a droll, hobbling motion to his diminutive body.