Have no fears, young man, love and serve me as you have my friend Webb, and what a father can or should do for a son, I will do for you—even to the command of the Reindeer. Be ready to-morrow at two, when myself and wife will call for you. So soon, Captain? Yes, that is our orders. We sail at ebb to-morrow. When Captain Davis had left, Walter approached Webb and said: This is sudden—unexpected, a very sudden change in my affairs. No more sudden than the killing of the panther—the water spout, and falling into my hands. A lucky fall for me, father. But now you will fall into good hands. Captain Davis is a gentleman, and already feels interested in you, as if you were his own child, and would like to have you take his name. That can never be. My name is Walter Wallace, and ever shall be. But you must be getting ready to depart. Sambo will assist you in packing and removing your trunk to the vessel. Sambo had been an attentive listener to what had passed between the parties, and looked upon the whole matter with distrust. Will Massa Webb excuse Sambo? ejaculated the negro. Walter looked at him in surprise. He had always been a faithful, loyal servant, and seemed to be dearly attached to Walter. Certainly, Sambo, if you can give a good reason, said Webb. Give reason? Yes, Sambo give the goodest of reasons. Ship sail to-morrow—to-morrow hangman’s day, to-morrow Friday. Bad day—bad luck—wind blow—ship sink—Massa Walt get drowned—sharks eat him up—Sambo see young Massa no more. Here the faithful black broke down, and cried like a child. Sambo is not to be blamed for his fears. He believed that Friday was an unlucky day. Nor was his superstitious belief uncommon. Sailors, as a rule, regarded it as a day to be dreaded, and nothing but the most rigid discipline would compel them to weigh anchor and leave port on Friday. Never mind, said Walter, we have been friends too long to quarrel now. I will pack my own things. You’ll see, Massa, you’ll see, and bursting into tears, left the room. That night was a busy and anxious one for Walter. On the morrow he was to leave his home and friends, and trust himself among strangers, and the treacherous waters of the Atlantic. The valley of the Hudson, and the grandeur of the Delaware were to be hid from his view. His thoughts were on the Callicoon, and the lovely girl that passed from his sight on the raft. He wished to behold the place once more before he left his native shore.