He had
arrived at Lucinda, had charmed "Little Jinny" with his manly presence
and spruceness and the amount of his personal property, supplemented by
the display and free bestowal of Nelly's choicest finery, and had, as a
matter of course, been compelled to fight for her. He had been beaten,
terribly beaten. One ear had been viciously "marked," a triangular
slice being missing (a subsequent combat removed all trace of this
mark), and he showed the meritorious scar of a spear-wound on the arm.
Having failed in the stand-up fight, he had resorted to stratagem, had
been foiled, and forced to flee, abandoning everything, even to that
last vestige of independence--his pipe.
We knew that he had been hard pressed, for on going gaily away he had
volunteered to bring a fat young pig from one of the wild herds of
Hinchinbrook, and he came back empty-handed. He talks of the pig--how fat
and very young it was--even to this day. He came with his life--that was
all, and a threadbare sort of life it was at that.
Several months went by--a black boy recovers condition in a day or two
as does a starved dog--and Tom had saved money. He never forgets, never
swerves from a purpose.
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