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Updated: July 26, 2025
"Be my friend!" said Howard, taking Oliver in his arms, with emotion which prevented him from articulating any other words. The word friend went to the little Creole's heart, and he clung to Howard in silence. To complete his happiness, little Oliver this day obtained permission to board at Mrs. Howard's, so that he was now constantly to be with his protector.
This was not very encouraging; but I was at an adventurous age and in an enterprising mood, and the creole's warnings had rather the effect of increasing my desire to go forward with the undertaking in which I had engaged than causing me to falter in my resolve.
"How d'dyou know my name was Jones?" he asked; but, without pausing for the Creole's answer, furnished in his reckless way some further specimens of West-Floridian English; and the conciseness with which he presented full intelligence of his home, family, calling, lodging-house, and present and future plans, might have passed for consummate art, had it not been the most run-wild nature.
But presently he halted, harkened after the Creole's receding step, thought long, softly called himself names, and then did a small thing which, although it resulted in nothing tragic at the time, marked a turning point in his life. He leapt the grove fence, returned to the shadows of the garden, and silently made his way to its eastern, down-river side.
Seeing that the hand was not withdrawn, she clasped it firmly and warmly. She even stroked it a little, fondly, with the other hand, murmuring in an undertone, "Pauvre cherie." The action was at first a little confusing to Edna, but she soon lent herself readily to the Creole's gentle caress. She was not accustomed to an outward and spoken expression of affection, either in herself or in others.
Half dressed as he was, his ever-present "gun" hung low at his hip, and his face scowled in surprised recognition. "What does this mean, Broussard?" he growled savagely. "Where did you pick up that fellow?" I caught the wicked, snaky gleam of the Creole's eyes. All his early suspicion of me had revived instantly. "At the landing," he hastened to explain. "How could I tell?
"You told me to drain the cup of joy to the dregs and then shatter it," cried the young chief. "I will shatter it ere my lips have touched it." Even while speaking, he wrenched his hand from the Creole's clasp, and drawing his sword, cried: "Forward to the coast of Hispaniola."
"Jools, my friend, your kindness is in vain." The Creole's face became a perfect blank. "Because," said the parson, "for two reasons: firstly, I have broken the laws, and ought to stand the penalty; and secondly you must really excuse me, Jools, you know, but the pass has been got onfairly, I'm afeerd.
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