Instantly the cry, “don’t crowd the lady,” was taken up, and the dense masses surged back, every man turning upon his neighbor, and shouldering him away in officious zeal, till there was a great bare space left around Muriel and her companion, with a circular crowd around its border, and further behind in the throng, negroes jumping up and down, to catch a sight of “the lady.” Muriel laughed, and at once the negroes in front laughed, and the laugh spread till it became a universal, jovial guffaw, while some of the lighter spirits threw themselves into grotesque contortions, and capered and stamped up and down in extravagant glee. Presently a conviction came to the crowd that they were at an unnecessary distance, and at once there was a forward movement of the whole mass to within a yard of Muriel, every one nervously ready to turn again upon his neighbor, and crowd him off, at the slightest hint that they were too near, and some of them looking anxiously at Tugmutton, who, taking upon himself very important airs by virtue of his attendance upon Miss Eastman, stood holding the basket, with his blobber cheeks and big lips puffed out in ludicrous dignity, as wondering at their impudence. “I trust, Mr. Brown,” continued Muriel, “that none of the poor people will be frightened by this, into going to Canada.” The negro looked sombrely into vacancy for a moment before answering. He was one of the influential men of the quarter, and knew pretty much all that went on there. Brave, faithful, generous himself, he added to his good qualities that of keen sympathy for his people. “I’m afeared, madam,” he said, “that this affair will scare off some of them. I advise every one to stay that can, and fight it out. I don’t go myself, and I wouldn’t give two cents for the chance of taking me, so long as I have this.” He opened his waistcoat as he spoke, showing a huge sheathed bowie-knife in a side-pocket of the garment. “I carry this, madam, night and day,” he continued. “Whenever they want me, they’ll find me ready. But there’s a lot of folks here that ain’t up to my way, and the poor cre’turs go. There’s two boardin’ with me now that have about made up their minds to git away right off, and as they’re bent on it, I shall have to help them all I can, though cash is rather low with me just now. Then I’ve been told that old Pete Washington is goin’, too, with his folks. Pete’s proper scared, and thinks he’s sent for every time he hears kidnappers are in town. I haven’t heerd tell of no more.” He said it with a kind of mechanical sadness, fumbling slowly as he spoke with the handle of the knife under his waistcoat, his eyes roving absently, meanwhile, over the gaping faces of the motley crowd.