Such being his situation, it was out of his power, as a matter of course, to comprehend at once the disaster that had befallen Colonel Sandford and his command. When he found the whites were scattering and seeking individual safety, and the Indians roaming everywhere in search of victims, he began to suspect that all had not gone as well as he had hoped. “Gerrynation! I begin to tink it’s time dis yer black man was tinking of libing.” At the time he gave expression to this thought, Pompey was crouched beneath some thick undergrowth, and glaring out upon the Indians, who seemed to be passing all around and in every direction. Here he remained until broad daylight. He had wit enough to understand that it was now impossible for him to escape discovery. The place in which he lay was the very one which a frightened fugitive would naturally secrete himself, and was therefore the one which the Shawnees would search. It would be certain death to attempt to escape by fleeing. His huge feet and short legs could not be compared with those of his enemies. He therefore hit upon the brilliant idea of feigning death until nightfall, when he could make off under cover of darkness. He had barely made this resolution, when a stalwart Indian walked straight to the bushes, and pulling them aside, peered in. Perhaps the glare of the sun, or the utter darkness of Pompey himself, made the negro invisible for a few moments; for it is certain that some considerable time elapsed ere the savage uttered his all-expressive “Ugh!” Pompey kept his eyes open until he saw the red-skin glaring down upon him, and then he shut his orbs as tightly as if he were expecting to hold a fly beneath each lid. At the same moment he drew in a long breath, stoutly resolved to hold it until the Indian went away. But as second after second passed, his discomfort rapidly became overwhelming. But he held out like a hero, until absolutely human nature could do no more. Suddenly he gave a tremendous puff, somewhat after the fashion of a laboring steam-engine. “Gosh hang it! dar! no use tryin’! If I’d kept in any longer I’d busted!” The Shawnee indulged in a huge grin as he discerned the African stretched out upon the ground, his eyes rolling, and his great white teeth chattering with fear. “Ugh! come out—me kill.” “Oh, good Mr. Injin, I love you ’most to death. Please don’t hurt me! Oh, good Mr. Injin, please don’t hurt a feller like me!” “What do here?” “Please don’t hurt me. I come along, good Mr. Injin jes’ to keep de rest from hurtin’ _you_. You can ax any of ’em if I didn’t.” What would have been the ultimate result of all this it is impossible to say, but there can be little doubt but that the negro would have been tomahawked had not a peculiar whoop attracted the attention of the Indian. Without further noticing the supplicant he leaped away in the woods, uttering a reply to the signal, and disappeared almost instantly.