The Isabel had now come within a few yards of the dogs and their prey. The time for action had come. Dan was fully sensible of the great crime, as the southern slave law regarded it, of shooting a "nigger dog;" but with a steady hand, though his heart bounded with exciting emotions, he raised the gun to his shoulder, and taking deliberate aim at the nearest hound, he fired. The brute gave a deep yell, and for some time continued to splash about in the water. "Don't shoot me, massa! Don't shoot me, and I'll gib myself up," cried the fugitive, who seemed to have heard the report of the gun, without observing the effect which the shot had produced. "I mean to save you," replied Dan, as he levelled the gun at another of the dogs; but this time he missed his aim, and the hound continued to swim towards the negro. "Luff a little more," said Dan to Cyd, as the boat came between the man and the dogs. "Luff 'em 'tis." As the boat now divided the dogs from their prey, Dan did not again load the guns; but seizing the boat-hook, he gave the foremost hound a knock on the head, which caused him to retreat, howling with pain. "Swim this way," cried Dan to the negro. "I will save you." "Yes, sar," gasped the negro, whose breath was nearly exhausted by the hard struggle through which he had just passed. As the Isabel luffed up, the fugitive came alongside, and Dan assisted him to climb upon the deck. "O Lord!" groaned he, as he threw himself at full length upon the forecastle. "Poor fellow!" sighed Lily, who ran forward to see the sufferer as soon as he was hauled on board. "What can we do for him?" "He needs rest. He is all worn out. He may have run for miles before he took to the water." "Can't we give him something? There is some cold tea in the cabin." "I will get him something," added Dan; and he ran aft and entered the cabin. He returned in a moment with a bottle and a tumbler. The fugitive still lay upon the deck, panting and groaning like a dying gladiator after the mortal struggle of the arena. Freedom was worth the exertion he had made, though every fibre in his frame had been strained. He had manfully fought the battle, though without the interference of our party he would certainly have lost the day. Dan poured out a tumblerful of the wine which the bottle contained, and placed it at the lips of the sufferer. He eagerly drank off the draught, and sank back upon the deck. "He will be better soon. He is all out of breath," said Dan, as he brought one of the cushions from the standing room and put it under the poor man's head. "Gossifus!" shouted Cyd, who still retained his position at the helm, though his interest in the scene of the forward deck caused him to steer very badly. "Hossifus!" added he, in gasping tones; "de dogs! de dogs!" "What's the matter, Cyd?" demanded Dan. "De dogs! Dey done eat dis chile all up! Dey won't leabe de ghost ob a grease-spot luff of dis nigger!" cried Cyd, in mortal terror.