“I gwine,” said Hapzibah, who took herself off. And just then the gentlemen of the party, who had been out fishing at the opposite extremity of the island, and had been sent for, arrived upon the scene, and received the intelligence of the landing of the foraging party on the western shore of the island, and of their momentarily expected arrival at the house. And now at last there was promptitude of action. The ladies and female servants were collected and hurried upstairs, with recommendations not only to lock, but to bolt and bar themselves within the innermost chambers. Old Hapzibah’s age, fearlessness and tearful remonstrances obtained for her the questionable privilege of remaining out to stand by her “poor ole angel,” as she lovingly termed her brother. Euripedes and herself were intrusted with the keys, and directions to wait upon the foragers. The four old gentlemen and the two boys then armed themselves, and took their stations in the upper hall to defend, if necessary, the approach to the ladies’ place of retreat. These arrangements were scarcely concluded, before the foraging party entered the house. And then followed the feast, and succeeded the orgies!--and such orgies! It was providential that there was no liquor to be found, though every cellar, closet, cupboard and pantry was ransacked, in the vain hope of finding a hidden store. The hampers of the picnic party were rifled of their costly delicacies, and a few bottles of rare wine discovered, but this went only a little way among so many. You should have heard old Hapzibah’s indignant account of their proceedings. She said that “Each red debbil among ’em ’haved as if he wer’ ’sessed o’ seben oder debbils more worser dan hissef!” That when they failed to find the wine, they drove her “poor, ole, innocen’, sufferin’ darlin’ on afore ’em an’ swore all de hair off’n his head--de poor, ole, timidy, saf’-hearted chile, as couldn’ stan’ nuffin o’ dere debblish doin’s”--that because she, Aunt Hapzibah, couldn’t be here, and there, and everywhere at once, “de ’fernal white niggers got into her cabin an’ stole her trunk o’ berryin’ close, which she meant to go arter ’em herself, an’ git ’em back even ef she had to pull ’em out’n Admirable Cockburn’s own claws! Dough ef he, Cockburn, was admirable, she should like to know, she should, who was ’bominable! That de low-life white herrin’s was so ’fraid o’ bein’ p’isoned, dat dey made poor, ole Rip, poor, ole, sufferin’, put-upon angel, drink out’n ebery thing, whedder it ’greed with him or not--an’ eben ’pelled him to drink out’n ebery singly milk-pan in the dairyhouse, which eberybody knows he neber could ’bide milk eber since he was weaned, which allers made him dead sick to his stumick.”