LITMIR.BIZ

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thence, he sat down, and fixing his keen black eyes on it, began mumbling over its contents: “Barnes—Shelby County—boy Jim, three hundred dollars for him, dead or alive.

      “Edwards—Dick and Lucy—man and wife, six hundred dollars; wench Polly and two children—six hundred for her or her head.

      “I’m jest a runnin’ over our business, to see if we can take up this yer handily. Loker,” he said, after a pause, “we must set Adams and Springer on the track of these yer; they’ve been booked some time.”

      “They’ll charge too much,” said Tom.

      “I’ll manage that ar; they ’s young in the business, and must spect to work cheap,” said Marks, as he continued to read. “Ther’s three on ’em easy cases, ’cause all you’ve got to do is to shoot ’em, or swear they is shot; they couldn’t, of course, charge much for that. Them other cases,” he said, folding the paper, “will bear puttin’ off a spell. So now let’s come to the particulars. Now, Mr. Haley, you saw this yer gal when she landed?”

      “To be sure—plain as I see you.”

      “And a man helpin’ on her up the bank?” said Loker.

      “To be sure, I did.”

      “Most likely,” said Marks, “she’s took in somewhere; but where, ’s a question. Tom, what do you say?”

      “We must cross the river tonight, no mistake,” said Tom.

      “But there’s no boat about,” said Marks. “The ice is running awfully, Tom; an’t it dangerous?”

      “Don’no nothing ’bout that—only it’s got to be done,” said Tom, decidedly.

      “Dear me,” said Marks, fidgeting, “it’ll be—I say,” he said, walking to the window, “it’s dark as a wolf’s mouth, and, Tom—”

      “The long and short is, you’re scared, Marks; but I can’t help that—you’ve got to go. Suppose you want to lie by a day or two, till the gal ’s been carried on the underground line up to Sandusky or so, before you start.”

      “O, no; I an’t a grain afraid,” said Marks, “only—”

      “Only what?” said Tom.

      “Well, about the boat. Yer see there an’t any boat.”

      “I heard the woman say there was one coming along this evening, and that a man was going to cross over in it. Neck or nothing, we must go with him,” said Tom.

      “I s’pose you’ve got good dogs,” said Haley.

      “First rate,” said Marks. “But what’s the use? you han’t got nothin’ o’ hers to smell on.”

      “Yes, I have,” said Haley, triumphantly. “Here’s her shawl she left on the bed in her hurry; she left her bonnet, too.”

      “That ar’s lucky,” said Loker; “fork over.”

      “Though the dogs might damage the gal, if they come on her unawars,” said Haley.

      “That ar’s a consideration,” said Marks. “Our dogs tore a feller half to pieces, once, down in Mobile, ’fore we could get ’em off.”

      “Well, ye see, for this sort that’s to be sold for their looks, that ar won’t answer, ye see,” said Haley.

      “I do see,” said Marks. “Besides, if she’s got took in, ’tan’t no go, neither. Dogs is no ’count in these yer up states where these critters gets carried; of course, ye can’t get on their track. They only does down in plantations, where niggers, when they runs, has to do their own running, and don’t get no help.”

      “Well,” said Loker, who had just stepped out to the bar to make some inquiries, “they say the man’s come with the boat; so, Marks—”

      That worthy cast a rueful look at the comfortable quarters he was leaving, but slowly rose to obey. After exchanging a few words of further arrangement, Haley, with visible reluctance, handed over the fifty dollars to Tom, and the worthy trio separated for the night.

      If any of our refined and Christian readers object to the society into which this scene introduces them, let us beg them to begin and conquer their prejudices in time. The catching business, we beg to remind them, is rising to the dignity of a lawful and patriotic profession. If all the broad land between the Mississippi and the Pacific becomes one great market for bodies and souls, and human property retains the locomotive tendencies of this nineteenth century, the trader and catcher may yet be among our aristocracy.

      While this scene was going on at the tavern, Sam and Andy, in a state of high felicitation, pursued their way home.

      Sam was in the highest possible feather, and expressed his exultation by all sorts of supernatural howls and ejaculations, by divers odd motions and contortions of his whole system. Sometimes he would sit backward, with his face to the horse’s tail and sides, and then, with a whoop and a somerset, come right side up in his place again, and, drawing on a grave face, begin to lecture Andy in high-sounding tones for laughing and playing the fool. Anon, slapping his sides with his arms, he would burst forth in peals of laughter, that made the old woods ring as they passed. With all these evolutions, he contrived to keep the horses up to the top of their speed, until, between ten and eleven, their heels resounded on the gravel at the end of the balcony. Mrs. Shelby flew to the railings.

      “Is that you, Sam? Where are they?”

      “Mas’r Haley ’s a-restin’ at the tavern; he’s drefful fatigued, Missis.”

      “And Eliza, Sam?”

      “Wal, she’s clar ’cross Jordan. As a body may say, in the land o’ Canaan.”

      “Why, Sam, what do you mean?” said Mrs. Shelby, breathless, and almost faint, as the possible meaning of these words came over her.

      “Wal, Missis, de Lord he persarves his own. Lizy’s done gone over the river into ’Hio, as ’markably as if de Lord took her over in a charrit of fire and two hosses.”

      Sam’s vein of piety was always uncommonly fervent in his mistress’ presence; and he made great capital of scriptural figures and images.

      “Come up here, Sam,” said Mr. Shelby, who had followed on to the verandah, “and tell your mistress what she wants. Come, come, Emily,” said he, passing his arm round her, “you are cold and all in a shiver; you allow yourself to feel too much.”

      “Feel too much! Am not I a woman—a mother? Are we not both responsible to God for this poor girl? My God! lay not this sin to our charge.”

      “What sin, Emily? You see yourself that we have only done what we were obliged to.”

      “There’s an awful feeling of guilt about it, though,” said Mrs. Shelby. “I can’t reason it away.”

      “Here, Andy, you nigger, be alive!” called Sam, under the verandah; “take these yer hosses to der barn; don’t ye hear Mas’r a callin’?” and Sam soon appeared, palm-leaf in hand, at the parlor door.

      “Now, Sam, tell us distinctly how the matter was,” said Mr. Shelby. “Where is Eliza, if you know?”

      “Wal, Mas’r, I saw her, with my own eyes, a crossin’ on the floatin’ ice. She crossed most ’markably; it wasn’t no less nor a miracle; and I saw a man help her up the ’Hio side, and then she was lost in the dusk.”

      “Sam, I think this rather apocryphal—this miracle. Crossing on floating ice isn’t so easily done,” said Mr. Shelby.

      “Easy! couldn’t nobody a done it, without de Lord. Why, now,” said Sam, “ ‘t was jist dis yer way. Mas’r Haley, and me, and Andy, we comes up to de little tavern by the river, and I rides a leetle ahead—(I’s so zealous

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