“Now, look yere, I say, I’ll break dis ’ole cane fur you, if you don’t look out!” “Yes, you bettah try dat,” said Sam, thrusting the cane down several times, as though he were stirring a ’possum out of a hollow log. “Now you be keerful!” vociferated the voice below, angrily; and the stick was seized again and an effort made to wrench it from Sam’s hand. “Let go o’ dat now, I say,” said Sam, at the same time freeing it with a savage jerk. “Den you let me ’lone,” said Bill, in a kind of compromising tone. The passengers were looking on in astonishment. It was rather singular that this black _employé_ of the boat, as he evidently was, was allowed to come up among the passengers, and go to raising such an altercation through the sky-light with some one below. One passenger, who had been reading, seemed very much annoyed, and at last testily said: “O, let the fellow alone—whoever he is!” “I’ll let _you_ ’lone if I come up dar!” retorted the voice below, evidently addressing the irritated passenger. “Look out, Bill,” exclaimed Sam; “dat’s a white gemman you’s talkin’ to! d’ye know dat?” “Don’t car for dat. He’s no wuss dan a black gem man,” retorted Bill. “De white cuss!” “Confound him!” exclaimed the angry passenger, rising and going to the sky-light. “Where is he? I’ll punch his head!” “Don’t you wish you’d ketch me! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” laughed the voice, in taunting exultation; and now, to the astonishment of all, it sounded distinctly as though it were on the awning above our heads. All looked up as though expecting to see the shadow of some one there, but only the broad beams of the sun covered the canvas from side to side. “Ha, ha, ha! What’s de mattah?” yelled the same voice. “Ha, ha, ha!” First it appeared on the canvas, then under the deck, next toward the cabin-door, next toward the bow of the boat, and, after apparently making a rapid circle around us, finally subsided in our midst—in fact, in the very mouth of the darkey who stood on deck. He was a ventriloquist—a skillful one, too—and had been thus beautifully “doing” us all this time. As for “Bill,” the darkey below, he was of course a fictitious personage. A loud laugh came from the passengers, as they realized this, and the irascible man, who had threatened to punch Bill’s head, returned to his seat, trying to look unconcerned. Sam passed around his cap for tokens of our appreciation of his powers, and each one—including the irascible passenger—contributed from five to twenty-five cents. That was the last “tax” we paid that day.