MARTIN RATTLER. 167

the slaves; but it was too much for their risible
faculties to withstand. With one accord they rushed
howling into the water to conceal their laughter, and
began to stir up and belabour the alligators with their
poles, until the surface of the lake was a sheet of
foam.

Meanwhile the Senhor Antonio sprang to his feet
and began to bluster considerably in Portuguese; but
poor Barney seemed awfully crestfallen, and the deep
concern which wrinkled his face, and the genuine re-
egret that sounded in the tones of his voice, at length
soothed the indignant Brazilian, who frowned gravely,
and waving his hand, as if to signify that Barney had
his forgiveness, he stalked up to the shed, lighted a
cigarito, and lay down in his hammock.

“Well!” said Martin in an under-tone, “you did
it that time, Barney. I verily thought the old fellow
was hanged. He became quite livid in the face.”

“Och! bad luck to the lasso, say I. May I niver
more see the swate groves 0’ Killarney if iver I meddle
with wan again.”

“Hi-i; you is fuss-rate,” said Sambo, as he and his
comrades returned and busied themselves in cutting
up the dead alligators, “You beat de Niggers all to
noting. Not any of dis yere chiles eber lasso Sen‘or

Antonio yet; no, neber!”