They had left the region of pine forest behind them now and had come fairly into the heart of old Louisiana. On both sides of the river were the great Creole plantations with their stately white houses and stately French names. Sometimes when the flatboat ran close inshore, they caught intimate glimpses of lovely formal gardens and verandas gay with laughing girls. Allen, staring open-mouthed at these creatures of a different world, turned to Abe at length with a wag of the head. “By the ol’ jumpin’ sassafras,” he said, “I b’lieve Tad was tellin’ us the truth ’bout wearin’ shoes, back east. Did ye see them two women-folks jes’ now? White stockin’s _an’_ slippers on, right in the heat o’ the summer!” They went past the town of Baton Rouge, late that afternoon. Tad remembered, as he saw the landing and the stores, that his letter to his father had never been sent, and asked if he might land. “Sure ye kin,” said Abe. “But we’ll be in New Orleans ourselves in another two days--maybe as quick as the mail. Why not wait an’ surprise yer Pappy, now?” This suggestion met a ready response from Tad. He could picture that meeting very clearly, and although he would not postpone his father’s happiness even by a day if he could avoid it, the idea of a surprise appealed to him. They came, in the falling dusk, to a low wooden landing-stage built out from the levee. There was no house in sight except a long, roofed storage shed with a few empty molasses barrels piled beneath it, but a white-painted sign bore the inscription, “La Plantation de Madame Duquesne.” Abe ran the broadhorn in alongside the dock and made fast to a post. “Couldn’t ask fer a snugger place to tie up than this, could ye?” he asked. “Tad, you run up thar in the cane a ways, an’ cut us some sugar sticks to chaw. Allen an’ I’ll git the wood an’ water an’ start supper.” Taking the short hand-ax, the boy followed the top of the levee for a little distance and turned in along a raised wagon-track that led back into the tall cane. He went on till he found some pieces that suited him, cut half a dozen lengths with the ax, and shouldering the bundle, started back toward the river. He had almost reached the levee when there was a sudden movement in the thicket behind him, a crashing of the cane and a sound like the thud of feet. Tad did not even wait to glance over his shoulder but made a leap for the levee and ran along it toward the boat with all his might. When he got to the landing he looked back. There was no sign nor sound of a pursuer. The peaceful calm of evening lay over the river and the shore. “Who were ye racin’ with?” asked Allen jocosely. Tad recovered his breath and told them in a few words what he had heard. His face was still pale, and he felt a trifle shaky, but he tried to laugh it off. “I guess it was nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “Maybe it was a cow.” “Or a rabbit,” said Allen. “They make a mighty loud noise sometimes, in the woods.”