284 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



home and the garden walks. The stern heart was re- 

 tracing life's steps again ; it saw its childhood's home on 

 the Altamaha, it heard its mother's lullaby, the evening 

 prayer, it felt the good-night kiss, and smiled. The 

 dangers around were forgotten, the war whoop that was 

 sounding mockingly along the shore was unheard, Jack- 

 son had retraced live's voyage to its source, and was 

 home again. 



We all saw the relaxation of muscle that followed the 

 last hesitating word, and knew its meaning. Lou sunk 

 back into her boat vacantly listlessly staring, without a 

 word or a tear. The negroes wailed a low cadence of 

 sorrow gazing on their master with streaming eyes. 



" Wall, he's only got the start of us by a piece, it's a 

 few days airlier or later ; but them dogs don't get his 

 hair that's a comfort ; and may be it'll do him good to 

 hear my rifle crack, if he hain't gone far yet it used 

 to make him smile." And saying this, Mike levelled his 

 piece at one -of the savages on the shore, who were 

 watching, in groups, our movements. 



At the crack of the heavy piece, that carried a ball 

 further than any gun on the coast, an Indian in one of the 

 groups shivered, but by holding on to a branch above 

 him he saved himself from falling, though we all saw he 

 was wounded. Mike put his hands to his mouth and 

 gave the war whoop, but neither the ring of the rifle nor 

 the wild cry of battle awoke the dead, and obeying the 

 dictates of prudence we resumed our oars and hurried 

 out of the river for the more open channels of the islands ; 



