of about twenty yards. Not an eye winked, but his tail gave one or two quiet waves from side to side. Abeham wanted us to load a rifle, and kill him; but this would be wanton, as we were to leave the swamp the next day. Still we must pass, and he would not move. He paid no attention to a gun pointed at him. The poor fellow was only half wild, one could not help thinking; the hereditary taint of human association was in his blood. Probably his grandfather had fed in a fenced field, and had submitted to be "driven home" by a bare-footed boy.
At last a shot fired into the canebrake close to him gave him a shock. He looked at the canes where the small shot rushed, and then turned and trotted into the swamp.
That night we decided to leave the lake next day, passing through the Feeder and keeping along the main canal until we reached the Pasquotank river in North Carolina.
It rained in torrents in the early part of the night, and then cleared up, and the full moon shone on the lake. It was a scene of marvellous beauty, which color alone, not words, could reproduce. The lake was smooth, and incredibly black, the water retaining absolutely no light, and only appearing to be liquid by surface shining. The
