of days and more.  What kep' you?--boat get aground?” “Yes'm--she--” “Don't say yes'm--say Aunt Sally.  Where'd she get aground?” I didn't rightly know what to say, because I didn't know whether the boat would be coming up the river or down.  But I go a good deal on instinct; and my instinct said she would be coming up--from down towards Orleans. That didn't help me much, though; for I didn't know the names of bars down that way.  I see I'd got to invent a bar, or forget the name of the one we got aground on--or--Now I struck an idea, and fetched it out: “It warn't the grounding--that didn't keep us back but a little.  We blowed out a cylinder-head.” “Good gracious! anybody hurt?” “No'm.  Killed a nigger.” “Well, it's lucky; because sometimes people do get hurt.  Two years ago last Christmas your uncle Silas was coming up from Newrleans on the old Lally Rook, and she blowed out a cylinder-head and crippled a man.  And I think he died afterwards.  He was a Baptist.  Your uncle Silas knowed a family in Baton Rouge that knowed his people very well.  Yes, I remember now, he _did_ die.  Mortification set in, and they had to amputate him. But it didn't save him.  Yes, it was mortification--that was it.  He turned blue all over, and died in the hope of a glorious resurrection. They say he was a sight to look at.  Your uncle's been up to the town every day to fetch you. And he's gone again, not more'n an hour ago; he'll be back any minute now. You must a met him on the road, didn't you?--oldish man, with a--” “No, I didn't see nobody, Aunt Sally.  The boat landed just at daylight, and I left my baggage on the wharf-boat and went looking around the town and out a piece in the country, to put in the time and not get here too soon; and so I come down the back way.” “Who'd you give the baggage to?” “Nobody.” “Why, child, it 'll be stole!” “Not where I hid it I reckon it won't,” I says. “How'd you get your breakfast so early on the boat?” It was kinder thin ice, b