Allen, it seemed, had taken care of himself. He had been getting the better of the encounter when his antagonist had seen the others in flight and had jumped overboard and swum for it. One half-naked black still lay on the levee, moaning piteously. He had fallen a victim to Abe’s first attack, and there was an ugly bruise on his head. The fire went out of the big backwoodsman’s eye as he came to the side of the wounded negro. Stooping, he carried him to the landing, washed his broken crown, and wrapped about his head a bandage made of a piece of his own torn shirt. Gradually the man returned to full consciousness, and his groaning was quieted. “We-all b’longs on de plantation above yere,” he said, in response to Abe’s questioning. “A white man done promise he gwine git us free if we he’p dat Congo nigger ketch de young white boy.” Abe looked at him grimly. “Kin you walk?” he said. The darky got painfully to his feet and stood looking at the tall young Hoosier in a palsy of terror. “What we’d ought to do is tie ye up an’ take ye on down to N’Orleans to jail,” said Abe. “But in this fersaken country I s’pose they’d skin ye alive, down thar, an’ that don’t seem hardly fair, either. Go on--march yerself back whar ye belong, an’ git thar quick, ’fore they find out ye’re gone.” For a moment the negro stared at him, goggle-eyed with wonder. Then he was off, running up the levee as fast as his shaky legs could take him. “Wal,” said Allen, feeling of a barked elbow, “I reckon none of us is very sleepy right now.” He went to the fire and threw on dry wood, poking it till a bright blaze sprang up. “Great wallopin’ catamounts, Abe, but you sartin did give ’em what-for!” he chuckled. “Next time you aim to start a ruckus like that, I want to be sure I’m on your side.” The big youngster ambled into the circle of firelight. “You know me better’n that, Allen,” he grinned. “You never saw me _start_ a fight in my life. But I figger when you do have to defend yerself, it pays to go after the other feller hard enough to put the fear o’ the Lord in him.” He turned to the boy by his side. “How about ye, Tad--all right?” “Fine,” said Tad, “but say--how about yourself?” He seized his big friend by the arm and swung him half around in the firelight. “Didn’t you know you were bleeding?” Abe put up a hand to his face and brought it away red and dripping. A deep gash over his right eye was bathing the side of his head and neck with blood. “Huh!” he laughed, “I didn’t even know I had that one. I’ve been thinkin’ all this time it was sweat I was tastin’. Must ha’ got cut with a knife in that fracas with the three of ’em, here on the landin’.” He went down to the river and dipped his head in the water, after which Tad applied a tight bandage, and the bleeding soon stopped. “Wal,” said Allen, “I don’t reckon they’ll be back, but I ain’t sleepy enough to turn in jest yet. What say we mosey along a few miles?”