"Yes, sah; he's seed 'em befo'. Oh, Lawd, doan furgit whut er awful fix yo' po' servant is in. Dat sun goin' down mighty fas'. Look how da watchin' it." It did seem as if the panthers stole an occasional and anxious glance at the sun. "De fust pant'ers I'se seed in dis yere 'munity fur er mighty long time," old Alf went on, in his prayerful way, "an' I wushes, Lawd, dat I neber had seed deze. Wush I wuz er boy in er swimin' under some shady tree. Oh, Lawd, de raskil dun looked at de sun ergin." He kept up a ceaseless flow of supplication. The sun seemed to sink rapidly. The shadows of the May-apple stalks were getting longer and longer. The panthers became restless. The old negro's prayer increased in earnestness. One of the panthers, the male, ran back a short distance, then coming forward with mighty bounds, sprang high in the air and caught the body of the tree. _Bang!_ The panther fell to the ground. The other one ran forward, touched, with her bristly lips, her dead companion's blood, and then springing up, caught the body of the tree. _Bang!_ "Thank de Lawd; thank de Lawd!" cried Alf, as he began to scramble down; "thank de Lawd." He seized John in his arms. "Oh, de Lawd ain't gwine ter let his chillun suffer long. Yas, Mr. Potter, take holter dis young pussun. Dat's right, hug him, but look out, for you'se monst'ous strong. Bless us, de chile come back on er hoss. Sheddin' tears, too. Huh, I comin' back yere termor' an' skin deze genermen. Frien's, jes' wait er minit till I git down on my knees an' pray." John and Potter removed their hats. The old negro sank down upon his knees, raised his clasped hands, and delivered in these words his simple prayer: "Lawd, whuteber happens un'er yo' count'nance is right, but we do thank thee fur dis ack o' hebenly mussy. Amen." CHAPTER IV. The glare of summer was softened into the glow of autumn. In the field the dry corn-blades, gently stirring, hoarsely whispered; and the grasshopper, stiffened by the chilling dew, sat on the pumpkin where the sunlight fell. The mornings were rosy, the noontide shone with a deeper red, but the evenings came, serenely stealing, it seemed, out of the heavily-wooded land, spreading over the fields and creeping along the hill-sides where the bell-cow rang her melancholy curfew. John was a devoted student, and Potter, almost as much interested, was never too tired to assist him. "Don't sit up too late, John," the giant would sometimes say. "To-morrow night, remember, will soon be here." Alf, delighted to know that his violin did not disturb the cause of education, mainly spent his evenings with that instrument. One night, with sudden enthusiasm, he exclaimed: "Look yere, Mr. Potter, I wants er little o' dat edycation merse'f. Gimme holt o' dat book er minit. Now show me er J." "There is one," Potter replied, pointing out the letter. "Is you sho dat's er J?" "Yes," said Potter, smiling at John.