"What a lad you are!" he cried. "It's all right; he's waiting for us. It's some, sailor chap from Dartmouth, whose ship's put in at Kingston or Belize. Cheer up, mate!" But it was all a mockery; and when they approached the jungle at last, hoeing more slowly for, much as they longed to go up at once, they knew that any unusual movement on their part, might be interpreted by watchful eyes into an attempt at escape, and bring down upon them a shot. Bart's voice trembled and sounded hoarsely as he said playfully-- "Now, Abel, my lad, I'm going to talk to that there poll parrot." "Hush!" whispered Abel, agitatedly. "Keep on quietly with your work till we get close, and then call softly." "Oh, it's all straight, lad," whispered back Bart, chopping away and breaking clods, as his fetters clanked more loudly than ever. "Now, then, Polly! Pretty Polly, are you there?" "Yes, yes, Bart. Abel, dear brother, at last, at last!" came from the jungle. "Mary--Polly, my girl!" cried Abel, hoarsely, as he threw down his hoe; and he was running toward the jungle, where a crashing sound was heard, when Bart flung his strong arms across his chest and dashed him to the ground. "Are you mad!" he cried. "Mary, for God's sake keep back!" The warning was needed, for from across the plantation the overseer and a couple of soldiers came running, every movement on the part of the prisoners being watched. "Sham ill, lad; sham ill," whispered Bart, as a piteous sigh came from the depths of the jungle. "Now, then, you two. Fighting again!" roared the overseer, as he came panting up. "Fighting, sir!" growled Bart; "rum fighting. He nearly went down." "He was trying to escape." "Escape!" growled Bart. "Look at him. Sun's hot." The overseer bent down over Abel, whose aspect helped the illusion, for he looked ghastly from his emotion; and he had presence of mind enough to open his eyes, look about, wildly from face to face, and then begin to struggle up, with one hand to his head. "Is it the fayver, sor?" said one of the soldiers. "No. Touch of the sun," said the overseer. "They're always getting it. There, you're all right, ar'n't you?" "Yes, sir," said Abel, slowly, as he picked up his hoe. "Sit down under the trees there for a few minutes," said the overseer. "Lend him your water bottle, soldier. And you stop with him till he's hotter. I'll come back soon." This last was to Bart, playing, as it were, into the prisoners' hands, for Bart took the water bottle; and as the overseer went off with his guard, Abel was assisted to the edge of the jungle where a huge cotton-tree threw its shade; and here Bart placed him on an old stump, trembling the while, as he held the water to his companion's lips. It was hard work to keep still while the others went out of hearing; but at last it seemed safe, and Abel panted out-- "Mary, dear, are you there?" "Yes, yes, Abel. Oh, my dear brother, say one kind word to me!"