"Don't you see, Ezekiel?" she went on naturally. "We are almost there. And--wait, Ezekiel; stay right here; don't hurry so. Wait, stay close to me! There seems to be--some trouble." "It's Arch'bal', Miss No'th!" he began, his voice rising excitedly. "Dey's cotch 'im! I tole yer dey's gwine cotch 'im, Miss No'th! Look, Miss No'th!" Just then a big negro broke in on the scene, and suddenly Archibald was at large again, dashing through the noisy crowd in one direction, while the big negro ran in another. In the confusion that followed, Miss North put her hand out for Ezekiel, to find that he was not there, while Ezekiel, looking distractedly for Miss North, found himself pushed on in the crowd of jostling, swearing men. "Oh, look out!" he gasped; "yer's pushin' me! Yer--yer's steppin' on me! _Oh, turn me loose!_" "Get out o' yere!" a coarse voice called in his ear, "You'll get killed, an' good riddance if you do!" He felt them closing in over him, while he slipped to the ground--tramping on over him, pushing, tramping on, while, a limp, wounded little heap, he tried to raise his head, and felt it knock back again in the dust. "Mis'--Mis' Simons--wouldn' nuver 'a' let yer--done me--dat-a-way!" he whispered vaguely. He raised his head again, feeling confusedly for it as he sat up, gazing stupidly around. Then he pulled himself to his feet and limped aimlessly around in a circle. "Where's I gwine?" he mumbled. "_Mis' Simons!_ ... Mis' Simons--wouldn' nuver 'a' let yer--done me--dat-a-way!" He stumbled off across the side-walk into the grass, unheeded by a still confused, noisy crowd. In the grass he still stumbled on. "Mis' Simons--wouldn' nuver 'a' let yer--'a' let yer--done me--" As he slipped down again into the grass, his eyes closed. [Illustration: "''TAIN' GWINE NOBODY ELSE GIT--FRU--DAT--DO',' SHE SAY"] A crowd of angry, excited men seemed to be still before him--but Mrs. Simons stood with her back to the door, looking down at them with a white face. From a step beside her he seemed to be still looking up at her, while her low, vibrating voice seemed to be still echoing--echoing: "Oh, aren't you ashamed of yourselves! _Aren't--you--ashamed!_" With their reckless, brutish faces flickering before him again, he thought he was watching only her--watching--while her low voice went vibrating on--till they turned from her, swearing and laughing! And then she was stretching out her white hand, catching at one of the pillars, while she slipped down--down beside him on the step--and her arms fell around him helplessly. "You'll--take--care of me!" she cried faintly, "won't you--Ezekiel!" "Yas'm," came a broken whisper from the grass, "I'll tek cyare o' yer, Mis' Simons!" But there was another low voice which he did not understand, and his eyes opened wide, looking up vacantly at Miss North. "Ezekiel! Have you--have you--been hurt? Oh, Ezekiel----"