DUCK-SHOOTING. 249 
“No; but the water was only up to my arm-pits, 
and I was about to wade ashore, when a colored 
gentleman, who had arrived and been sitting on the 
bank for the last few minutes, shouted to me that it 
was his boat and I must bring it with me. I an- 
swered, savagely, that I would do nothing of the 
sort, when he began to abuse me and call me thief, 
and say I had stolen his boat, and he would have 
me arrested. So I thought I had better comply, 
and waded along, dragging it after me. The bot- 
tom was muddy, and I slipped once or twice 
and went all under. It was probably then that 
the fish got off; but my colored friend took pity 
on me, and pointed out to me the best places to 
walk. | 
“‘T was nearly ashore, and had clambered upon a 
bog, as the gentleman advised, and, by his direction, 
I jumped to a piece of nice-looking green grass. I 
have always thought he deceived me in this, for it 
turned out to be a quagmire, and I sank at once 
above my waist in solid, sticky mud. The matter 
now became serious; my weight is no trifle, and 
every motion sank me deeper and deeper. I im- 
plored the colored man to help me out; to wade in 
to me, and let me climb on his back; I offered him 
money profusely ; and—would you believe it ?—he 
laughed, he roared, he shouted, he rolled over in an 
agony of mirth. He asked me whether I was afraid 
to die—that only cowards were afraid to die. I 
did not dare to say no, lest he should take me at 
my word, and was ashamed to say yes; but, as I 
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