After a few weeks the negroes imagining there was a plot laid to entrap them, agreed to retire to a house they had found in the woods, where they thought themselves secure, and live in peace together. Scotland, Moody and the two Jims, took their leave of me and departed. Prince, the neutral negro, remained in the village. He was a coarse carpenter, and made some tables and sundry little articles for the Indians, and had many friends among them. Scotland and his party visited me two or three times after they had gone to their new habitation, and were supplied with their one bottle of rum per day, according to agreement, when they would depart peaceably to their new home. The fourth time they visited me they asked me for their bottle of rum, as usual, which was furnished them. They then left for a short time and returned with a request that I would fill the bottle again for them, which I refused to do, by telling them it was a breach of our agreement; but on their promising me faithfully if I would let them have another bottle they would not broach it until they got home, I filled it; they left, and as I supposed, had gone home. About one hour after, a number of women and children appeared at my door, where I had laid myself down in my hammock, reading, and making a most hideous noise, called on me to come out, as Scotland was killing Moody. I ran as fast as I could until I came near to the combatants, when I saw Scotland thrust his cutlass into the thick part of Moody's thigh, near the bone, the point running at least one foot through. Moody being vanquished, Mandingo Jim, his comrade, then rushed forward with cutlass in hand and struck at Scotland's head, who dodged the blow, at the same time returning a blow with his cutlass which struck Jim near the wrist, severing his hand from his arm, leaving it hanging by a small string of skin and flesh. Ebo Jim then ran into the battle with his gun cocked to shoot down his conquered adversaries, when I interfered, and by threats and persuasion prevented any further effusion of blood. The battle being ended, I proposed to cut off the wounded hand, but my opinion was overruled by the company, who decided, to use their own language, that "The hand could be mended up again." My landlord's oldest wife, whose name was Sally, and who was considered a great doctress among the inhabitants of this region of country, procured some splinters of wood, dressed the wound with wild honey and bound it up, Sally acting as head surgeon among the company. I furnished them with candles, which they made great use of as salve to dress the wounds. On the third morning after, Sally came to my store and told me that Jim's hand was all spoiled, that she had ground up her butcher knife to cut it off. She repaired to the room and requested Jim's wife to open the wound that she might dress it, which she complied with. Sally instantly drew her knife, which was concealed behind her, and cut the