“Wall, Cash bowt her. That’s all I ever could find out. Ef Ripper knowed more, he wouldn’t tell.” “To whom did you sell the yellow girl?” “We didn’t sell her at all. Was glad to git her off our hahnds at no price. The chap what took her called hisself Dr. Davy. He was a free nigger, a trav’lin’ quack,—one of those fellers that ’tises to cure ev’ry thing.” “When did you last hear of him?” “The last I heerd tell uv Davy, he war in Natchez, and that war five years ago.” “What became of the yellow girl?” “Wall, thar’s a quar story ’bout that. Whan we fust saw that air gal on the wreck, she was callin’ out ter us, ‘Take me an’ the child with yer!’ She said it wunst, an’ hahd jest begun ter say it again, an’ hahd got as fur as _Take_, whan the block hit her on the head, an’ she fell inter the water. Wall, six months ahter, Davy took that air gal ter a surgeon in Philadelphy, an’ hahd her ’panned; an’ jest as the crushed bone war lifted from the brain, that gal cried out, ‘—me an’ the child with yer!’ Shoot me ef she didn’t finish the cry she’d begun jest six months afore.[28] She got back her senses all straight, an’ Davy made her his wife.” “Did you keep anything that belonged to the child?” “Jest you feel in the pockets uv them pants under my piller, and git out my pus.” Vance obeyed, and drew forth a small bag of wash-leather. This he emptied on the coverlet, the contents being a few dimes and five-cent pieces, a tonga-bean, and a small pill-box covered with cotton-wool and tied round with twine. “Thar! Open that ar’ box,” said the patient. Vance opened it, and took out a pair of little sleeve-buttons, gold with a setting of coral. Examining them, he found on the under surface the inscription C. A. B. in diminutive characters. “I’ll tell you how ’t was,” said the wounded man. “That night of the ’splosion the yuller gal an’ the child must have gone ter bed without ondressin’; for they’d thar cloze all on. Most like the gal fell asleep an’ forgot. Soon as we touched the shore, the Kunnle says ter me, says he, ‘Cap’n, you cahrry the child, an’ I’ll pilot the gal.’ Wall; I took the child in my arms, an’ as I cahrr’d her, I seed she wore gold buttons on the sleeves uv her little pelisse,—a pair on each; an’, thinks I, the Kunnle will pocket them buttons sure. So I pocketed ’em myself; but whan it kum to partin’ with the child, I jest took one pair uv the buttons, an sowd ’em on inside uv the bosom uv her little shirt whar they wouldn’t be seen. The other pair is that thar. Take ’em an’ keep ’em, Mr. Vance.” “Have you any article of clothing belonging to her?” “Not a rag, Mr. Vance. They all went with her.” “Did you notice any mark on the clothes?” “Yes, they was marked C. A. B., in letters worked in hahnsum with white silk.” “Was that the kind of letter?” asked Vance, who, having drawn the cipher in old English, held it before the patient’s eyes.