Upon the evening of the second day after their arrival, Tom was sitting by Peter's bedside, when, after a preliminary tap, the door opened, and to Tom's perfect amazement Sambo entered. The negro hurried forward, threw himself on his knees, seized Tom's hand and kissed it passionately, and then looking at the thin and fever-flushed face of Peter, he hid his face in his hands and sobbed unrestrainedly.

"Hush, Sam, hush," Tom said soothingly. "My poor fellow, why, where have you come from? I thought you were a prisoner with the French."

"I knew how it would be, Massa Tom," the black said, paying no attention to the questions. "First thing Sam said to himself when he got among French fellows, 'Dere, dose young gentlemen dey get into all sorts of danger widout Sam, sartin sure dey get hurt widout Sam to look after dem.' Dat idea troubled Sam berry much, took away Sam's sleep altogether."

"Well it turned out so, as you see, Sam," Tom said with a smile, "but tell me how did you get away? But first give me some lemonade out of that jug, then you can tell me all about it."