"Steady as she is."
"See here, Dan. Is you gwine to shoot?" asked Cyd.
"Certainly I am. What do you suppose I got the guns for?"
"Possifus! What you gwine to shoot?"
"The dogs, of course. Luff a little—luff! You are letting her fall off."
"Luff 'em 'tis. See here, Dan. You be mighty keerful you don't hit de nigger."
"Silence, now, and mind your helm! You are steering wild."
Cyd had so far improved in the cultivation of the quality of obedience on shipboard, that he did not speak again, but he was fearfully excited by the stirring scene which was transpiring near him. Dan was not less moved, though his cool determination produced a different manifestation of his feelings. He was conscious of the danger to which his interference in the hunt subjected him. There were probably several slave-hunters on the track of the fugitive. The Isabel would be seen by them, and possibly be recognized, which would certainly bring pursuers upon her track.
But it was not in his nature to permit his suffering fellow-creature, in this unequal strife, to be conquered by his human and brute antagonists. The appeal of the gentle Lily had been addressed to a sympathizing heart, and he entered with all his soul upon the task of saving the slave from the fangs of his pursuers.
The Isabel had now come within a few yards of the dogs and their prey. The time for action had come. Dan was fully sensible of the great crime, as the southern slave law regarded it, of shooting a "nigger dog;" but with a steady hand, though his heart bounded with exciting emotions, he raised the gun to his shoulder, and taking deliberate aim at the nearest hound, he fired. The brute gave a deep yell, and for some time continued to splash about in the water.