In a far corner, upon a platform of boards laid across two flour barrels, sat Uncle Ben, playing upon a squeaky fiddle, and shouting the "figures." "Ah! _v'là_ Chouchoute!" some one called. "Eh! Chouchoute!" "Jus' in time, Chouchoute; yere's Miss Léontine waitin' fer a partna." "S'lute yo' partnas!" Uncle Ben was thundering forth; and Chouchoute, with one hand gracefully behind him, made a profound bow to Miss Léontine, as he offered her the other. Now Chouchoute was noted far and wide for his skill as a dancer. The moment he stood upon the floor, a fresh spirit seemed to enter into all present. It was with renewed vigor that Uncle Ben intoned his "Balancy all! Fus' fo' fo'ard an' back!" The spectators drew close about the couples to watch Chouchoute's wonderful performance; his pointing of toes; his pigeonwings in which his feet seemed hardly to touch the floor. "It take Chouchoute to show 'em de step, _va!_" proclaimed Gros-Léon, with a fat satisfaction, to the audience at large. "Look 'im; look 'im yonda! Ole Ben got to work hard' 'an dat, if he want to keep up wid Chouchoute, I tell you!". So it was; encouragement and adulation on all sides, till, from the praise that was showered on him, Chouchoute's head was soon as light as his feet. At the windows appeared the dusky faces of negroes, their bright eyes gleaming as they viewed the scene within and mingled their loud guffaws with the medley of sound that was already deafening. The time was speeding. The air was heavy in the room, but no one seemed to mind this. Uncle Ben was calling the figures now with a rhythmic sing-song:-- "Right an' lef' all 'roun'! Swing co'nas!" Chouchoute turned with a smile to Miss Félicie on his left, his hand extended, when what should break upon his ear but the long, harrowing wail of a locomotive! Before the sound ceased he had vanished from the room. Miss Félicie stood as he left her, with hand uplifted, rooted to the spot with astonishment. It was the train whistling for his station, and he a mile and more away! He knew he was too late, and that he could not make the distance; but the sound had been a rude reminder that he was not at his post of duty. However, he would do what he could now. He ran swiftly to the outer road, and to the spot where he had left his pony. The horse was gone, and with it the United States mail-bag! For an instant Chouchoute stood half-stunned with terror. Then, in one quick flash, came to his mind a vision of possibilities that sickened him. Disgrace overtaking him in this position of trust; poverty his portion again; and his dear mother forced to share both with him. He turned desperately to some negroes who had followed him, seeing his wild rush from the house:-- "Who saw my hoss? W'at you all did with my hoss, say?" "Who you reckon tech yo' hoss, boy?" grumbled Gustave, a sullen-looking mulatto. "You did n'have no call to lef' 'im in de road, fus' place."