I. "I think, Sam, we'd better drop the stone
nigger, both get on the horse, and push on as
fast as we can for the nearest township."

"No, no," said Sam; "I'll never let go of this
nigger. Only let me get him home to the Minories
and my fortun's made."

I wasn't going to quarrel with a messmate, so
I gave in, and when the moon went down we
halted till daybreak, slept by turns, took a meal,
and reloaded the horse.

We had just got our traps tied on at
daybreak, and all snug under hatches, when I found
that that rascal Gallini, or some nigger he had
employed, had stolen our pistols.

The second night we had just a mile or so to
get clear of the timber, and were beginning to
think we were quite safe, when the beast of
a horse fell lame and gave in.

"He's shamming," said I.

"No," says Sam, looking at her from stem
to stern in a hopeless way. "No, Harry," said
he, "that craft's back's broken, and she's going down."

"Well," said I, "bear a hand then with the
biscuit-bag, and leave the nigger to be his own
tombstone."

Sam didn't answer for a moment; he was down
on his knees, seeing if the red paint had at all
rubbed off the mummy's face; then he rose up,
and said in a awful deep voice to be sure, "No,
Harry, no, not if I knows it. If you like to leave
me on a lee shore, though I didn't expect it of
you, do; but if I go, the stone nigger goes with
me. Every one has his opportunity, as our ship
carpenter used to say, and this is mine. The stone
nigger and I keep together till we either get to
Davy's locker, or the Lively Whaler in Ratcliffe
Highway."

I was just going to tell him that we'd pull in
the same boat whatever the weather was, when
there came a cry from the wood behind us like
the cry of a mad dog. Then, came two more
cries, then three, then a dozen. Last of all, there
came a sort of shaking howl that sounded like
nothing but "Golly, golly, golly!" and grew
louder every minute. It was the niggers after us.
Presently, out they came across the prairie
in a long black line like a pack of dogs, and ran
straight at us with clubs and spears, knocking
us both down with boomerangs, and
stunning us.

When we came to, they were dancing cotillons
round us, and chasséing and moulineting for joy
at getting back their petrified chief. They had
taken us back several miles to Gallini, and had
lighted a fire to sleep round for the night.
Presently, Gallini came to us, cursed us, pushed us
about with his feet (for we were tied), danced
round us, and then told us that we were to be
sacrificed early in the morning, in atonement to
the great stone chief—as the niggers called the
mummy. I don't suppose we had to thank him
for much, but one of the black fellows brought
us some victuals and left us.

By-and-by, the thieves, worn out with the
chase they'd had, fell asleep round their fire.
As soon as they were all sound, Sam nudged me,
and, slipping his hands out of the ropes, drew his
clasp knife out of his pocket, cut off his remaining
tackling, and then cut mine.

"It's dirty weather with us," I whispered to
Sam, "and there's such a sea round us, Sam,
as no boat can live in."

"Never you mind," said Sam. "You bear a
hand with the stone nigger. I saw some smoke,
Harry, over those trees to the left, three hours
ago, and that's what I'm going to make for."

Well, we went up to where the stone nigger
was, and hoisting him between us, set off as
quietly as we could in the direction where Sam
had seen the smoke. The stone nigger was a
heavy load, but we staggered on with him for
half a mile, till we saw a fire and some men
sitting round it. When we approached, they
started up and seized their guns.

"Friends or enemies?" cried one of them.

"Friends, ahoy!" said Sam, letting down his
end of the stone mummy as tenderly as if it was
alive. "Friends! and Great Britons! Just got out
of the hands of the bloodthirsty niggers."

"You're welcome," cried all the men; "we're
Englishmen too. Come to our fire. We've got
rifles enough here, to stop five hundred niggers;
but what have you got there?"

"Well, it's a long yarn," said Sam, "to tell
you what we're laden with. It's no baccy nor
any smuggled goods, but as beautiful a stone
nigger as ever you set eyes on."

Nothing could have been kinder than the
explorers were, and in a few minutes there was Sam
and I sitting by the fire on the petrified man,
drinking our horns of grog, and singing:

           The heart of a true British sailor.

The explorers had pack-horses, and these bore
the petrified man alternately. I and Sam made a
good thing of exhibiting the chief in the settlement,
and then we shipped him in the Happy
Return for England, where we did still better.
And those who want to see him, and hear our
story fuller and better told, had better come and
call on us at No. 14, Davis-street, New Cut,
where the stone nigger is now exhibiting with
great success at twopence a head.

THE UNCOMMERCIAL TRAVELLER,
A New Series of Occasional Papers
By CHARLES DICKENS,
WILL BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.

Now ready, bound in cloth, price 5s. 6d.,
THE NINTH  VOLUME.

The Right of Translating Articles from ALL THE YEAR ROUND is reserved by the Authors.