leaving the raft and thanked him for the trouble he had taken. The cub made no answer, but the back of his neck and his ears grew very red.
Miss Ruysdale had about her throat a crimson silk handkerchief, which she unfastened and laid in the old man's hand as he helped her to step on board the steamer. "Give this to Nathan from me," she whispered to him. As the little tug steamed briskly up the river, they saw the cub handling the square of silk very carefully. Then he brought out from his breeches pocket a piece of crumpled brown paper, and carefully wrapping Margaret's gift in it, he placed the packet in the leg of his boot for safety.
It was mid-day when they reached the plantation where Philip's childhood had been passed. As the steamer rounded the turn in the river which brought them in sight of the tall chimneys of the sugar-house, the whistle was sounded thrice. The signal was answered by a blast on an invisible horn, and by the time the boat was moored at the levee, a swarm of children of all sizes and colors had gathered upon the river-bank. Just as the gang-plank was thrown ashore, a carriage drove up at a smart pace, and a gentleman descended in time to assist the ladies to land.
Francis Rondelet, great-uncle to Philip, was a striking-looking old man,—tall and gaunt,
