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. 



"I 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 oflfered 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 

 11* 



