THE RUNAWAY. 31 



brake, in the centre of which I found his camp. A few nights afterwards 

 he gained the abode of his wife, and the very next after their meeting he 

 led her away. The children one after another he succeeded in stealing, 

 until at last the whole objects of his love were under his care. 



To provide for five individuals was no easy task in those wilds, which, 

 after the first notice was given of the wonderful disappearance of this ex- 

 traordinary family, were daily ransacked by armed planters. Necessity, 

 it is said, will bring the wolf from the forest. The Runaway seems to 

 have well understood the maxim, for under night he approached his first 

 master's plantation, where he had ever been treated with the greatest 

 kindness. The house servants knew him too well not to aid him to the 

 best of their power, and at the approach of each morning he returned to 

 his camp with an ample supply of provisions. One day, while in search 

 of wild fruits, he found a bear dead before the muzzle of a gun that had 

 been set for the purpose. Both articles he carried to his home. His 

 friends at the plantation managed to supply him with some ammunition, 

 and in damp and cloudy days he first ventured to hunt around his camp. 

 Possessed of courage and activity, he gradually became more careless, and 

 rambled farther in search of game. It was on one of his excursions that 

 I met him, and he assured me that the noise which I made in passing the 

 bayou had caused him to lose the chance of killing a fine deer, although, 

 said he, " my old musket misses fire sadly too often."" 



The runaways, after disclosing their secret to me, both rose from their 

 seat, with eyes full of tears. " Good master, for God's sake, do some- 

 thing for us and our children," they sobbed forth with one accord. Their 

 little ones lay sound asleep in the fearlessness of their innocence. Who 

 could have heard such a tale without emotion ? I promised them my most 

 cordial assistance. They both sat up that night to watch my repose, and 

 I slept close to their urchins, as if on a bed of the softest down. 



Day broke so fair, so pure, and so gladdening, that I told them such 

 heavenly appearances were ominous of good, and that I scarcely doubted 

 of obtaining their full pardon. I desired them to take their children with 

 them, and promised to accompany them to the plantation of their first 

 master. They gladly obeyed. My Ibises were hung around their camp, 

 and, as a memento of my having been there, I notched several trees, after 

 which I bade adieu, perhaps for the last time, to that cane brake. We 

 soon reached the plantation, the owner of which, with whom I was well 



