Then he learned that the negro of the South had reached a stage of progress wherein he did not wish to be reminded of the fact that he was once a slave and the property of a white master; and as most of those dear old songs are along that line he gives them the go-by when choosing his minstrel lays.

But by a little species of bribery they managed to induce some of their visitors to sing the “S’wanee Ribber,” “Massa’s in de Cold, Cold Groun’,” “Black Joe,” and others of a similar nature.

“Dear Ole Hom’ny Corn” seemed to be a prime favorite among them, and the boys themselves never tired of joining in the chorus.

After they had lost several articles from some of these blacks pilfering they learned to keep the cabin door locked when going ashore.  If bent on stealing, the southern negro can accomplish his purpose in spite of watchful eyes, since there will come a moment when attention is directed in another quarter, and like a shadow he will creep aboard and accomplish his end.

Another thing began to trouble them about now, and this was the fact that their slender stock of money had entirely given out, with some weeks ahead before Uncle Ambrose could be expected to come to the rescue.

Hence it became necessary that they find some means of earning something.

Thad could fall back upon his experience as a carpenter, and if he could get employment now and then might bring in enough of the needful to supply them with the necessities of life.

Maurice on his part would only too willingly have done anything in his line if he could find a chance.  He was a pretty fair bookkeeper, but it did not seem likely that he would run across any one in this part of the country who wanted his books balanced.

Still both of them began to be on the lookout for opportunities, determined to do whatever their hand came in contact with.

It was at Gibson’s Landing that Thad struck his first chance.

Things were getting rather low, and they had not enjoyed a cup of coffee for two days, on account of a lack of supplies or the wherewithal to purchase the same.

Maurice was cleaning some fish they had taken that day when he saw Thad coming at an unusually swift pace, and a look on his face that spoke volumes.

“And now what!?” he demanded, as his partner sprang aboard.

“Bully news—­I’ve struck a job.  Last a week or so, and give us enough cash to carry us through with careful nursing.  And that ain’t the whole of it, either,” was the way he broke loose.

“It’s good as far as you’ve gone; now what else can there be to make you feel so fine!” demanded Maurice.

“Mr. Simon Buckley—­”

“Who’s Mr. Simon Buckley?”

“Why, I was just going to tell you—­he’s a rich planter back here a bit.  I happened to mention the fact that I was a carpenter looking for a job and he jumped on to me and said he was looking for just such a man.”