“Ah, massa, you no smell de daylight; near daybreak already, sir. Can’t make try dis night, but to-morrow night I shall be here punctual.” “Very well, but the dog, man? If he be found in my quarters, we shall be blown, and I scarcely think he will leave me.” “Garamighty! true enough, massa; what is to be done? De people know de dog was catch wid me, and if he be found wid you, den de will sospect we communication togidder. What is to be done?” I was myself not a little perplexed, when Nancy whispered, “De dog have more sense den many Christian person. Tell him he must go wid us dis one night, no tell him dis night, else him won’t; say dis one night, and dat if him don’t, we shall all be deaded; try him, massa.” I had benefited by more extraordinary hints before now, although, well as I knew the sagacity of the poor brute, I could not venture to hope it would come up to the expectations of Mrs Mangrove. But I’ll try. “Here, Sneezer, here, my boy; you must go home with Peter tonight, or we shall all get into a deuced mess; so here, my boy, here is the bight of the handkerchief again, and through the window you must go; come, Sneezer, come.” To my great joy and surprise, the poor dumb beast rose from where he had coiled himself at my feet, and after having actually embraced me, by putting his forepaws on my shoulders, as he stood on his hind legs, and licked my face from ear to ear, uttering a low, fondling, nuzzling sort of whine, like a nurse caressing a child, he at once leapt on the window sill, put his forepaws through the handkerchief, and was dropped to the ground again. I could immediately perceive the two dark figures of the pilot and his wife, followed by the dog, glide away as noiselessly as if they had been spirits of the night, until they were lost under the shade of the thick jungle. I turned in, and--what will not youth and fatigue do?--I fell once more fast asleep, and never opened my eyes until Obed shook me in my cot about eight o’clock in the morning. “Good morning, Lieutenant. I have sent up your breakfast, but you don’t seem inclined to eat it.” “Don’t you believe it, my dear Obed. I have been sound asleep till this moment; only stop till I have slipped on my--those shoes, if you please thank you--waistcoat--that will do. Now--coffee, fish, yams, and plantains, and biscuit, white as snow, and short as--and eggs and zounds! claret to finish with?--Why, Obed, you surely don’t desire that I should enjoy all these delicacies in solitary blessedness?” “Why, I intend to breakfast with you, if my society be not disagreeable.”