in contrast with the cold damp night-breeze) surged a foot or two beyond its usual level, so as to cover us to the ankle, and make us start back; and immediately ebb again. It was some time, amidst this "groan of rock and roar of stream" before we could make out any thing that the negroes about us said. "Hillo," cried Twig--to be heard by each other we had to shout as loud as we could--"hillo, friend Felix, here's a coil--what shall we do--sleep here, eh?" "We shall sleep soft, then," roared his friend in reply. "As how, my lord?" "Why, you may have mud of all consistencies, and of any depth." "True, _water_ beds are all the fashion now, and possibly _mud_ ones might be an improvement; but had we not better try back," I continued, as I really began to think it no joke remaining where we were all night. "A good idea," said Twig. "About ship, then," quoth Flamingo. "Wery good plan, wery good plan," shouted Cousin Teemoty; "but"---- "But, but, but--oh, confound your _buts_," roared Twig; "_but what_, sir?" "Oh," said Tim, whose dignity was a little hurt, "noting, noting--no reason why massa should not return--only Carrion-crow gully dat we lef behind, will, by dis time, be twenty time more _down_ as dis, _dat all_." "And so it will--the boy is right," rejoined Jacob; "What is to be done? Stop--I see, I see." "The deuce you do! then you have good eyes," quoth Felix. "I say, Flamingo, pick me up a stone that I can sling, and hold your tongue; do, that's a good fellow." "Sling? where is the Goliah you mean to attack?" "Never you mind, Flam, but pick me up a stone that I can tie a string to, will ye?--There, you absurd creature, you have given me one as round and smooth as a cricket ball; how can I fasten a string round _it_?--give me a longish one, man--one shaped like a kidney-potato or your own nose, you blundering good-for-nothing--ah, that will do. Now, some string, boys--string." Every negro carries a string of one kind or another with him in the crown of his hat, and three or four black paws were in an instant groping for Jacob Twig's hand in the dark with pieces of twine. "Hillo, what is that?" as an auxiliary-current, more than ankle deep, began to flow down the road with a loud ripple from behind us, thus threatening to cut off our retreat--"Mind we are not in a scrape here!" cried I. "If we be, we can't better it," shouted Twig--"Here, gentlemen, give me your cards, will ye?' "Cards--cards!" ejaculated Flamingo and I in a breath. "Yes--your calling-cards; do grope for them--make haste." He got the cards, and all was silent except the turmoil of the elements for a few seconds. At length, in a temporary lull of the rain, I thought I heard the shout of a human voice from the opposite bank, blending with the roar of the stream. "Ay, ay," cried Jacob--"there, don't you hear people on the other side?--so here goes." "Hillo, who the deuce has knocked off my hat?" cried Flamingo.