Hastings, Mr.
Hastings could not have raised your salary; you would not have asked me
to marry you, and had you not asked me to marry you, father would not
have given me a wedding-present, and--"
"And," said Champ, taking up the tale, "thousands of slaves would still
be buried in the jungles, hidden away from their wives and children and
the light of the sun and their fellow men. They still would be dying of
fever, starvation, tortures."
He took her hand in both of his and held her finger-tips against his
lips.
"And they will never know," he whispered, "when their freedom comes,
that they owe it all to _you_."
* * * * *
On Hunter's Island, Jimmie Reeder and his bunkie, Sam Sturges, each on
his canvas cot, tossed and twisted. The heat, the moonlight, and the
mosquitoes would not let them even think of sleep.
"That was bully," said Jimmie, "what you did to-day about saving that
dog. If it hadn't been for you he'd ha' drownded."
"He would _not_!" said Sammy with punctilious regard for the truth; "it
wasn't deep enough.
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