“Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.”

“Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it very rotten.”

“Him rotten, massa, sure nuff,” replied the negro in a few moments, “but not so berry rotten as mought be.  Mought ventur out leetle way pon de limb by myself, dat’s true.”

“By yourself!—­what do you mean?”

“Why, I mean de bug.  ’Tis berry hebby bug.  Spose I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won’t break wid just de weight ob one nigger.”

“You infernal scoundrel!” cried Legrand, apparently much relieved, “what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that?  As sure as you let that beetle fall, I’ll break your neck.  Look here, Jupiter! do you hear me?”

“Yes, massa, needn’t hollo at poor nigger dat style.”

“Well! now listen!—­if you will venture out on the limb as far as you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I’ll make you a present of a silver dollar as soon as you get down.”

“I’m gwine, Massa Will—­deed I is,” replied the negro very promptly—­“most out to the eend now.”

“Out to the end!” here fairly screamed Legrand, “do you say you are out to the end of that limb?”

“Soon be to de eend, massa,—­o-o-o-o-oh!  Lorgol-a-marcy! what is dis here pon de tree?”

“Well!” cried Legrand, highly delighted, “what is it?”

“Why, taint nuffin but a skull—­somebody bin lef him head up de tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off.”

“A skull, you say!—­very well!—­how is it fastened to the limb?—­what holds it on?”

“Sure nuff, massa; mus look.  Why, dis berry curous sarcumstance, pon my word—­dare’s a great big nail in de skull, what fastens ob it on to de tree.”

“Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you—­do you hear?”

“Yes, massa.”

“Pay attention, then!—­find the left eye of the skull.”

“Hum! hoo! dat’s good! why, dar aint no eye lef at all.”

“Curse your stupidity! do you know your right hand from your left?”

“Yes, I nose dat—­nose all bout dat—­’tis my lef hand what I chops de wood wid.”

“To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left eye is on the same side as your left hand.  Now, I suppose you can find the left eye of the skull, or the place where the left eye has been.  Have you found it?”

Here was a long pause.  At length the negro asked, “Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef hand of de skull, too?—­cause de skull aint got not a bit ob a hand at all—­nebber mind!  I got de lef eye now—­here de lef eye! what must do wid it?”

“Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string will reach—­but be careful and not let go your hold of the string.”

“All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru de hole—­look out for him dar below!”