“Oh, dey put John on de islan’
      When de Bridegroom come;
    Yes, dey put John on de islan’
       When de Bridegroom come;
    An’ de rabens come an’ fed him
       When de Bridegroom come;
    Yes, de rabens come an’ fed him
       When de Bridegroom come. 
    An’ five of dem was wise
       When de Bridegroom come;
    Yes, five of dem was wise
       When de Bridegroom come;
    An’ five of dem was foolish
       When de Bridegroom come;
    Yes, five of dem was foolish
       When de Bridegroom come. 
    Oh, gib us of yo’ ile
       When de Bridegroom come;
    Oh, gib us of yo’ ile
       When de Bridegroom come;
    Fo’ you’ll nebber get to heaben
       When de Bridegroom come;
    No, you’ll nebber get to heaben
       When de Bridegroom come;
    Aless you’s ile a-plenty
       When de Bridegroom come;
    Aless you’s ile a-plenty
       When de Bridegroom come.”

In the midst of the singing a voice called out from the tree-tops,

“Who, who, who, who’s there?” or at least so it sounded.

Immediately the singing stopped, and one of the negroes answered,

“Some folkses from de Norf, Marse Owl, an’ Cap’n Johnsin, an’ me, an’ Homer, an’ Virgil, an’ Pete.”

“What does he mean by that?” asked Mr. Elmer of the captain.

“Oh,” answered he, “it’s one of their superstitions that they’ll have bad luck if they don’t answer an owl politely when he asks ‘Who’s there?’ and give the names of all the party, if they know them.”

Soon after this all hands sought their blankets, good-nights were said, the fire died down, and all was quiet in the camp, though several times some sleepy negro roused himself sufficiently to answer the owl’s repeated question of “Who’s there?”

It must have been nearly midnight when the camp was startled by a crash, a series of smothered cries, and a loud splashing in the water.  It was evident that something serious had happened, but what it was no one could make out in the darkness.

CHAPTER VII.

Arrival at the new home.

Some light-wood splinters were quickly thrown upon the smouldering remains of the fire, and as it blazed up brightly, the lighter, in which the whites had been sleeping, was seen to be on its beam ends.  One side rested high up on the bank and the other down in the mud at the bottom of the river, just on the edge of the channel.  Some little distance down stream a sorry-looking figure, which was hardly recognizable as that of Jan, was floundering through the mud and water towards the bank.  On the lower side of the lighter the canvas, that had been spread like a tent over the afterpart, had broken from its fastenings, and was now tossing and heaving in a most remarkable manner.  From beneath it came the smothered cries of the Elmers, who had been suddenly wakened to find themselves mixed together in the most perplexing way, and entangled in their blankets and the loose folds of the canvas.