"You seem fond o' dirt and not o' water, to judge from your faces," replied Jack, calmly, attempting to light his pipe, which was rather a difficult operation, seeing that it was empty and he had no fire. "Ah! my light's out. Could you lend us a match, friend?" "No, we can't. No time. Hain't got none. Did you see a nigger pass this way?" "Ha! you're after him, are you?" cried Jack, indignantly. "Do you suppose I'd tell you if I did? Go and find him for yourselves." The two men frowned fiercely at this, and appeared about to attack us. But they changed their minds, and said, "Mayhap you'll tell us if ye saw two hounds, then?" "Yes, I did." "Which way did they pass?" "They haven't passed yet," replied Jack, with deep sarcasm, at the same time quietly lifting his leg, and swaying it gently to and fro; "whether they'll pass without a licking remains to be seen." "Look 'ee, lads, we'll pay you for this," shouted the men as they turned away. "We've not time to waste now, _but we'll come back_." I remonstrated with my friend. "You're too rash, Jack." "Why? We don't need to fear _two_ men!" "Ay, but there may be more in the woods." My surmise was correct. Half an hour after, the hound was heard returning. It came straight at us, followed by at least a dozen men. Jack killed the dog with one blow, and felled the first man that came up, but we were overwhelmed by numbers, and, in a much shorter time than it takes to tell it, both of us were knocked into the mud and rendered insensible. STORY TWO, CHAPTER 9. On recovering from the stunning effects of the blow that had felled me, I found myself lying on a hard earthen floor, surrounded by deep impenetrable darkness. "Are you there, Jack?" I sighed faintly. "Ay, Bob, I'm here--at least, all o' me that's left. I confess to you that I do feel a queer sensation, as if the one half of my head were absent and the other half a-wanting, while the brain lies exposed to the atmosphere. But I suppose that's impossible." "Where are we, Jack?" "We're in an outhouse, in the hands of planters; so I made out by what I heard them say when I got my senses back; but I've no notion of what part o' the world we're in. Moreover, I don't care. A man with only one leg, no head, and an exposed brain, isn't worth caring about. _I_ don't care for him--not a button." "Oh, Jack, dear, don't speak like that--I can't stand it." "You're lying down, ain't you?" inquired Jack. "Yes." "Then how d'you know whether you can stand it or not?"