THE BATTALION. IS
before the Lucifer sails, and I can run no risks by lying late
abed here.’’
“Your honor shall be called betimes,’ 7 said Basmorne.
Supper over, the tired traveler ascended the stairs once
more, and, after seeing that the bolt which secured his room
from intrusion was shot home, prepared to go to bed.
In that age beds were well canopied. Indeed, what with
tester, valance, and curtains draping it to the very floor, a
bed was a tiny close room where folks nowadays would ex
pect to smother outright. The traveler had been a soldier,
used to sleeping in the open air on many a bivouac, and ho
thirsted for fresh air. As soon as he had undressed, he tried
to shift the bed a little nearer the window opening on the
back yard, the only window he had ventured to leave open.
But the bed would not move. He found that it was fastened
securely by its legs to the floor.
What can be the object of that? he asked himself.
Now whether the darkness—for he had blown out his can
dle, brought back the suspicions suggested by the warning of
the hostler at the Edisto Ferry inn or whether this odd cir
cumstance of a bed made fast to the floor brought fresh doubts-
to his mind, certain it is that he lay there upon the bed wide
awake in spite of his weariness.
“Is this worthy of Malcolm McAlpine?” said‘he indignant
ly to himself. “Shall an old soldier and hunter lie awake
because one inn-servent chooses to put a bad mouth on an
other inn? It is ridiculous, but I’ll take another look out of
that window and then come back and go to sleep.” He was
bardly at the window when he heard the voice which he now
knew to be that of the innkeeper’s wife calling out in what
he could not help describing to himself as a devil’s croak:
“Have you filled the big caldron as I told you, Ahab?” “yes
ma’am,” a negroe’s voice replied, “He full and he duh bile
now.”
“Keep it hot! I want it to peel the skin as soon as it hits,”
said the same cruel voice.
“She is making preparations for cleaning a hog,” said Me-