But Slap-Jack, truth to tell, was sadly indifferent to it all. Uneasiness of the legs sadly counteracted pleasure of the eye. It was with considerable gratification that he observed his leader diverge from the upward path, and rounding the shoulder of the hill, take a direction somewhat on the downward slope. Then he wiped his brows, with a sigh of relief, and asked audibly enough for something to drink. She seemed less afraid of observation now, although she did not comply with his request, but pointed downward to a dark hollow, from which ascended a thin, white, spiral line of smoke, the only sign denoting human habitation in the midst of this luxuriant wilderness of tropical growth and fragrance. Then, parting the branches with both hands, she dived into the thicket, to stop at the door of a hut, so artfully concealed amongst the dense luxuriant foliage that a man might have passed within five yards and never known it was there but for the smoke. Célandine closed the door cautiously behind her visitor, handed him a calabash of water, into which she poured some rum from a goodly stone jar—holding at least a gallon—watched him eagerly while he drank, and when he set the measure down, flung both arms round his neck, and kissing him all over the eyes and face, murmured in fondest accents— “Do you not know why I have brought you here? Do you not know who and what you are?” “I could have told you half an hour back,” answered Slap-Jack, with a puzzled air, “but so many queer starts happen hereaway, mother, that I’m blessed if I can tell you now.” Tears shone in the fierce black eyes that never left his face, but seemed to feast on its comeliness with the desire of a famished appetite for food. “Call me mother again!” exclaimed the Quadroon. “You called me mother down yonder at the store, and my heart leaped to hear the word. Sit ye down, my darling, there in the light, where I can see your innocent face. How like you are to your father, my boy. You’ve got his own bold eyes, and broad shoulders, and large, strong hands. I could not be deceived. I knew you from the first. Tell me true; you guessed who I was. You would never have gone up to a stranger as you did to me!” Slap-Jack looked completely mystified. Wisely reflecting, however, that if a woman be left uninterrupted she will never “belay,” as he subsequently observed, “till she has payed-out the whole of her yarn,” he took another pull at the rum-and-water, and held his peace.