“By me sowl, I’ll get yous the box, and ax yous only the price meself pays for ’t,” replied Pat, touched at the idea of a reward, which between friends seemed base even to his rude mind.

“And I shall want your help, too.”

“Yous may well count on that, for whin did a Fegan desart his frind?  But tell me, honey, what yous mane to do wid it.”

“I intend to get to Cincinnati in it.”

“Is it in the box?” exclaimed Pat, astonished beyond measure.  “Sure you will smodther!”

“But, my friend, I want you to look out for that, and give me something to eat and drink.  You can pretend that the box contains the body of your captain, who, you said, died in Mexico.”

“Arrah, me darlint, I see it all!” and Pat shook his sides with laughter at the idea of the mulatto’s “travelling-carriage,” as he styled it.

Pat had procured the box, and conveyed it to Hatchie’s asylum.  It was sufficiently large to furnish quite a roomy apartment.  The covering consisted of short boards, matched, and screwed on crossways.  To facilitate the introduction of food and air, and to afford the means of a speedy exit in case of need, he had taken off half these boards, and fastened them together with cleats on the inner side.  The ends of the screws were then filed off, so that this portion of the lid exactly corresponded with the other portion.  A number of hooks were then procured, so as to fasten it upon the inner side.  By this arrangement, the occupant of the box would not be dependent upon exterior aid for egress.  When once on board the steamer, he expected he should be able to leave his hiding-place in the night, and perhaps at other times.

Upon the outside the box was similar to the others, and was duly marked and consigned.

Hatchie’s quarters were near the depot from which the coffins were to be shipped, and Pat, watching his time, had wheeled his own charge down in season to be shipped with the others.  In the haste of embarking, the clerk had not noticed that one box more had been brought on board than his manifest indicated.

Hatchie was not aware that Emily and her uncle were passengers on the same boat till the moment of the accident.  He had before released himself from his prison-box, and was enjoying the fresh air, which the closeness of his box rendered particularly desirable, when he heard the scream of his mistress.  Her voice was familiar, and even in the scream of terror he recognized it.  It needed not a second thought to convince him of his duty.  He had saved her life, and, forgetful of the danger of thus exposing his person, he stood by and saw her conveyed to her state-room.  He heard Jaspar call for her deliverer, and offer a reward.  This he knew, if no one else did, was gross hypocrisy, and in the indignation of his honest heart he had stepped forward to confront him.  The sight of Jaspar, and the thought of his own responsibility, recalled his prudence; and he hastened to retrieve his error by escaping to his hiding-place in the box, in which no one thought of searching for a living man.