A short struggle followed, in which the gun was wrested from the planter's hands by Nic, and the next moment Pete had joined in the fray, securing the planter's arms, and then with Nic's help he was dragged and thrown into the great barn. Then the door was banged to and fastened with the bar; and the prisoner began to call and threaten what he would do if his people did not let loose the dogs.

What followed would have seemed almost comic to a spectator, for the two women came hurrying up with their fingers stuck in their ears.

"Run--run to your boat!" they whispered. "We can't hear what he says now, but we must soon, and then we shall be obliged to let out the dogs."

"Oh, mother!" cried the girl, "the blacks will be here directly."

"Yes, yes," cried the elder woman, who somehow seemed to have heard that. "Run, then, run, and get away before it is too late."

"G.o.d bless you both for what you have done for us!" cried Nic. "I pray that you may not get into more trouble on our account."

"Oh, father won't hurt me," said the girl; "and he shan't hurt mother.

Serve him right for being so cruel. You never did him any harm."

"Oh, run, run!" cried the woman, with her fingers still in her ears; and the two young men dashed off to the boat and leapt in, Nic's next action, as Pete unfastened the slight cord, being to fling the gun as far out into the river as he could.

"Oh!" cried Pete, "what did you do that for?" as the gun fell with a splash and disappeared.

"I was not going to steal the scoundrel's gun," said Nic, seizing an oar.

"Well, it wouldn't ha' been any use without powder and zhot," said Pete as he thrust the boat out into the stream. "Good-bye to you both," he shouted, waving his hand to the two women, who stood waving their ap.r.o.ns.

"But it seems cowardly, Pete, to go and leave them in the lurch."

"Ay, it do, Master Nic; but it only means a rowing for them, and it's life and liberty for us."

There was another wave of a white ap.r.o.n as the boat glided out into mid-stream, and Nic responded with his hand. Then trees interposed and hid the house and sheds from view, and the fugitives went on straining at their oars till they felt that their safety was a.s.sured, when they relaxed their efforts.

"That was close, Master Nic," said Pete. "Treacherous martal. Wish I'd give him a good topper before we zhut the door."

"I'm glad you did not, for his wife and daughter's sake," replied Nic.

"Poor things! they will suffer for their gentle, womanly compa.s.sion towards a pair of poor escaped slaves."

"Ay, it was good of 'em, Master Nic. Zees how hungry we were, and fetches that fresh brown loaf, and all that pink-and-white bacon as looks d'licious. Zo, as we're going gently on, and not likely for him to take boat after us, what do you say to staying all that horrid gnawing of our insides with a good bite and sup? But--I say, Master Nic, what did you do with that bacon and bread?"

Nic looked sharply up at Pete, and the latter uttered a dismal groan.

The bread and bacon had gone, neither knew where, in the struggle, and the landing and encounter had all been for nothing.

"Not quite," Nic said later on. They had learned how much gentle compa.s.sion existed for the poor white slaves, even in a district where the sight of them was so common.

"P'raps so, Master Nic; but I'd give all the compa.s.sion in the world just now for a zlice of that bacon and a hunk of bread. What's to be done now, zir?"

"Row, Pete, row; and let's try and forget our hunger in the knowledge that we are so far free."

"Right, zir; we will. But what about that treacherous hound? Think he's got a boat?"

"Sure to have," replied Nic.

"Then he'll come after as zoon as he can get help; and if he do--Well, I should be sorry to hurt him, on account of them as was kind to us; but if he does ketch it, mind, Master Nic, it's his fault and not mine."

There was no more talking, for both felt morose and weak, their growing sense of hunger making them more and more silent and disinclined to speak.

Still, fortune favoured them to a certain extent, for there had been rain somewhere inland, and the stream ran as if it were in flood higher up, so that their rate of progress was swift.

As the hours went on and there was no sign of pursuit--no enemies who had made a short cut to the river-bank waiting to fire at them from among the trees--the fugitives grew more and more confident; and when at last they reached another swamp, the alligators appeared to be less monstrous and the gloomy place lost half its forbidding aspect.

At last, after endless difficulties, and nearly starved, the tidal part of the river was reached, and, to the delight of both, they found that they had hit exactly the right moment, for the tide was at its height, and stood as if waiting to bear them onward towards the sea.

Excitement had kept off all thought of food; but when, after a long journey, they approached the straggling town at nightfall and saw the twinkling lights, an intense desire seized upon both to land as soon as possible and satisfy their needs.

"You see, we lost everything, Master Nic, in that struggle. What you looking at, zir?"

"You, Pete. I was thinking."

"What about, zir?"

"About this place. If we land we must go to some house for food; and when we two half-naked, miserable, starved wretches have obtained what we want we shall be asked to pay."

"My word!" gasped Pete, ceasing to row. "I never thought of that. And we aren't got any money."

"Not a coin."

"And they'd want it here just the same as they would at home, though it is a foreign country?"

"Of course."

"Then I tell you what, Master Nic," said Pete after a long pause; "we must go straight to zomebody and tell 'em how we've been zarved, and ask him to help us."

"We should have to tell them everything, Pete."

"Of course, zir; downright honest."

"And who would believe us at a place like this, where we know that poor wretches are brought to go up to the plantations?"

"Oh, hark at him!" sighed Pete. "And I'd been thinking our troubles were over, and we'd got nothing to do but get plenty to eat and a good ship to take us home. You're right, zir; it would be as mad as March hares to go ash.o.r.e. They'd put us in prison and keep us there till old Zaunders come again with his dogs and guns and n.i.g.g.e.rs to take us back; and when we got to the plantation it would be the lash and short commons, and the hoe again out in the hot sun."

"Yes, Pete," said Nic sadly; "that is what I fear."

"And you're a deal longer-headed than me, master. It's going and giving ourselves up for the sake of a good dinner. Master Nic!"

"Yes, Pete."

"Just buckle your belt a bit tighter, two or three holes, like this.

That's the way. Now then, take hold of your oar again. We can hold out another day or two on what we can find, while we coast along till we see a ship outward bound somewhere. Sure to be lots. Then we'll row till they see us and pick us up. They won't bring us back, that's for sartain, but to the port they're going to; and of course they can't starve us. Then they'll hand us over to a judge o' some kind, and as soon as he hears your story you'll be all right; and--and--"

"Yes, Pete?"

"I know I've been a bad un; Master Nic; but I'm going to turn over a new leaf, zir, and never meddle wi' the zalmon again. You'll put in a good word for a poor fellow, won't you?"