“True, by the light of heaven!” returned the pirate chief. “He lives; ay, and is sleeping at his ease--wealth around him, and beauty in his arms--not half a league from the very spot I stand on.” “Captain Ramirez alive, and wealthy, and within cannon-shot?” “If Captain Ramirez be not, there’s one that will answer just as well, although he has dropped a former title, and taken the plainer one of Hartley.” “Come, captain, no riddles, if you please; we’re plain seamen, and can only understand a plain story. If Ramirez is alive, and as you have described him, why, all you said against him must be true. Men neither come back from the grwe, nor do they pick up doubloons in the woods, like hiccory nuts. If your tale be true, Ramirez is a traitor and a rogue; and, were there no other hand to do the job, I’d row a hundred leagues for the mere pleasure of cutting the throat of scoundrel that sold us all.” “Juan, the right pluck is in thee still,” returned Gaspard, with a smile of demoniac satisfaction. “What say ye all, lads?” “Why, that he who wouldn’t do as honest Juan says, has no manhood in him,” responded a rover. “Come, pass the good liquor round, and then for booty and revenge!” From hand to hand the runlet passed, until the contents were drained to the very bottom. Maddened by ardent spirits, burning under the belief of having been betrayed, and excited by the hope of plunder, the ferocious band prepared for violence and bloodshed. Their arms were examined; the simple plan of attack explained by the ruffian leader, who had already reconnoitred the dwelling of his intended victim; the boat was carefully drawn up, and hidden in the tall reeds which fringed the river’s bank; water carried from the stream, and flung on the red embers of the fire; and, in Indian files, one after another, the ruffians took a narrow path cut through the tangled underwood, and followed their truculent commander. Did no eye, save that which looks alike on innocence and guilt, observe them? Yes; the slwe, whose canoe they had despoiled, directed by the fire, had traced the marauders, and, concealed in the thick brushwood, overheard their plans of murder. While making their final preparations, the negro glided through the coppice like a snake, and ran, at headlong speed, to alarm his devoted master. He reached the dwelling safely; but it was to alarm, and not to save! The planter’s country-house was wrapped in night and silence; the lights were extinguished, and the inmates buried in deep repose. From the lord to the serf, all felt the influence of that peaceful hour; and in the woods where he had toiled all day, the negro slept in his wigwam as soundly as his master; for, as the Indian adage goes, The lightest heart has ever the heaviest eye-lid.”