The Bloodhound moaned pitifully; and Harry, with the suffocating gripe of old Royal on his throat, and his back yet raw from the lashes of the previous night, could not repress a groan of agony. It was a critical moment. "Do you know, massa Harry,"--and old Royal bent his face down until Harry felt his breath upon his cheek--"Do you know, massa Harry, dat you are not berry far from glory? Kingdom-come am right afore, ole boy--and you am booked--hah! yah!--wid a through ticket." Old Royal, (who had laid down his pistol,) took a knife from one of the negroes, and, tightening his gripe and pressing his knee more firmly on Harry's breast, he passed the glittering blade before his eyes. "Oh!" groaned Royalton. The groan was wrung from him by intolerable agony. "Let me up--a-h!" cried Bloodhound, in a smothered voice, as his face was pressed against the hard boards. "Death to the dam kidnappers!" Old Royalton clenched the knife with his left hand, and placed its point against Harry's breast. "You am bound for glory, massa--" and a negro held a candle over Harry's face, as old Royal spoke. At this critical moment, even as Harry's life hung on a thread, a violent knocking was heard at the door, and a voice resounded through its panels-- "Old Royal, old Royal, I say! Let me in, quick! quick!" "Open the door, nigga. It's massa Harry's brack brudder. Let um in, so he can see his brudder bound for glory!" The door was opened, and Randolph, pale as death, came rushing to the light. Wrapped in the cloak, which concealed his pistols and knives, and which hung about his tall form in heavy folds, he advanced with a footstep at once trembling and eager. His pale face was stamped with hatred; his blue eyes shone with vengeance, as he at a glance beheld the pitiful condition of his brother. "Soh, brother of mine, we have met again!" he cried, in a voice which was hoarse and deep with the thirst of vengeance. "Why, he's whitaw dan his white brudder!" cried the negro who held the light. "Release him," cried Randolph--"Release him, I say! Tie that fellow there;" he touched Bloodhound with his foot; "close the door. You'll see a fight worth seeing; a fight between the master and slave, between brother and brother. Do you hear me, Royal? Let him get up,--" "But massa 'Dolph!" hesitated old Royal. "Up, I say!" and Randolph flung his cap and cloak to the floor, and drew two bowie-knives from his belt. "Up, I say! You have heard my history from old Royal?" he glanced around among the negroes. "Yah-hah! an' ob de lashes dat you gib dis dam kidnapper!" said the negro who held the candle. "Then stand by and see us settle our last account," cried Randolph. "Let him get up, old Royal." Old Royal released his hold, and Harry slowly arose to his feet, and stood face to face with his brother.