Antony swung up his club, and stood with opened nostrils and glaring eyes, his black face alive with fierce courage. The man halted, and looked at him with a sullen scowl. In the blank pause all life seemed to have died from the air, and the moon lay faded in a vacant, sky, ghast and grey in the pale light of the morning. The man was a large, gaunt fellow, with a harsh and sallow taciturn face, but to the dark, half demented fancy of the fugitive, he dimly seemed a devil, and the place was still vaguely Hell. “See here, nigger,” he said, in a stern, strident voice, “yer a runaway. There’s their name as owns yer on yer collar, and I know Lafitte Brothers, New Orleans, want yer. I’m goin’ down in the first boat, and yer comin’ with me, right away, and no fuss. What yo’ say, nigger?” He drew a revolver from his breast, and held it idly, watching the fugitive with a scowl. Sense flickered through the mind of Antony. Here was a chance to get safely down the river—beyond, a chance to give his captor the slip when he reached the city. He flung his club away. “I’ll go with ye, Marster,” he said, sullenly. The man put up his pistol. “What’s yer name, boy?” he asked. “Bill, Marster.” “Bill, eh? You’re the Fugitive Slave Bill, I suppose,” said the man, with a dull grin. “Yes, Marster.” “Well, Bill, I collect bills for a livin’, and I reckon I’ve collected you, Bill. Hope I’ll collect something on yer, too. Come along.” Antony followed him. Not a word further was said on either side. Meanwhile, around them the pallor of the sky lightened into daybreak; horns sounded over the plantations; the black gangs were coming forth into the fields on every side; the birds darted and sang; the fragrant wind blew freshly from the east, and the life of day began anew. Weary, and sore, and aching, with insane fancies flitting through the horrible lethargy which was creeping on his mind, Antony followed his taciturn captor, and just as the rising sun shot a low, broad splendor over the landscape, they came to a solitary landing-place, with a shanty and a wood-pile, on the border of the wide, gleaming river.