"As bad, you mean," cried Bob. "Oh, it's all right. The niggers won't rise. They'd better!" This was said so importantly that the men began to laugh; and as Bob turned upon them sharply, they grew preternaturally serious. "I say, look at Soup and Taters," whispered Bob; "they're as pleased as children to have a ride. I shall make two clever sailors out of them before I've done." Mark glanced at the two blacks, and saw that their faces were lit up as they rode over the glancing waters. Then turning to Bob,-- "That was a good idea of yours to bring them." "Yes, I reckon that was a bright notion." "Only you've spoiled it by being so cocky. I say, Bob, what a conceited chap you are." "Oh, am I? Pity you aren't a little more so, too. Hallo! what's the matter with Soup?" Mark looked at the black sharply, half expecting that he was again going to leap overboard and swim for his liberty, for the man was glaring at the schooner they were approaching fast, his nostrils distended, and there was a curious lurid light in his eyes as if he were suddenly enraged. "Why, Taters has got it too. Look at him." The bigger of the two blacks had muttered something to his companion as they sat together forward, and they both turned to Mark now as they started up in the boat and pointed to the schooner, uttering a low guttural cry. "Sit down both of you; do you hear?" cried Bob. "I see," cried Mark, excitedly. "They know that it is a slaver, and they think we are going to take them off in it." "No, no!" growled the bigger black, fiercely. "Yes; that's what they think," cried Mark. "Then they're a pair of black-looking old noodles," said Bob. "Here, hi! sit down, or you'll be overboard." "Yes; sit down," said Mark, rising, and speaking authoritatively as he pointed downward. "Yes, sir, begging your pardon, that's what it is; they think you're going to sell 'em, sir." "I wish to goodness they could understand English," said Mark, impatiently. "How am I to explain?" "Oh, they know a lot," said Bob. "Here, I'll show you. Hi, Soup! Taters, ahoy!" The two blacks looked at him excitedly. "It's all right." "All--righ?" said Soup. "Yes, all right." The man turned to Mark and looked at him inquiringly. "All righ?" he said. "Yes; all right," cried Mark, with a look which gave the men some confidence, and they sat down. "That's right, my dark-skinned messmate," growled Tom Fillot, "Why don't you larn to understand that you're a free nigger now?" They were close alongside of the schooner; and the blacks' nostrils began to quiver and their excitement increase as they caught the horrible, sickening effluvium which was wafted from the hold. Starting up, they made as if they were about to jump overboard, in the full belief that they were once more about to be entrapped into the hold of a slaver; but dropping the rudder-lines, Mark sprang to them, and laid his hands upon their shoulders.