"The man rides behind us," said Chevillere, "who will perform that duty. Cato! this gentleman wishes to speak to you." "Did you call, your honour?" "Yes. Cato! Mr. Damon wishes to give you some charges about his horse, which you are to take into the country with ours." "Cato," said Damon, "tell the farmer who takes the horses, that old Pete Ironsides here has been used to good company, and that he has been treated more like a Christian nor a horse, and that I wish him indulged in his old ways." During this harangue, Cato cast sundry glances from his master to the speaker, as if to ascertain whether he was in earnest, or only playing off one of those freaks in which the young men had so often indulged in his presence. Being accustomed, however, to treat with respect those whom his master respected, and seeing his eye calm and serious, he bowed with grave deference, saying, "It shall be done as you direct, your honour;" and then fell back. "Now," said Damon, "that's what I call a well-bred nigger. I would venture that old Scip would'nt have puzzled me with the warm water; 'cause he knows that I'm not one of them there sort of chaps what knows all their new-fangled kick-shaws. He knows in a case of real needcessity, or life and death, as I may say, either to man, woman, or horse, I'm more to be depended on than a dozen such chaps as went along here in the stage this morning." "You saw the dandies in the stage, then?" asked Victor. "Yes, and one of 'em popped his head out of the window, and says to me as they went by, 'Country,' says he, 'there's something on your horse's tail.'--'Yes,' says I, 'and there's something in his head that you hav'nt got, if his ears ain't so long.'" Thus were our acquaintances and their new companion jogging along when the distant rumbling of wheels upon the pavements and the dense clouds of black smoke which seemed to be hanging in the heavens but a short distance ahead, announced that they were soon to enter the monumental city.