One of them says: “What's that yonder?” “A piece of a raft,” I says. “Do you belong on it?” “Yes, sir.” “Any men on it?” “Only one, sir.” “Well, there's five niggers run off to-night up yonder, above the head of the bend.  Is your man white or black?” I didn't answer up prompt.  I tried to, but the words wouldn't come. I tried for a second or two to brace up and out with it, but I warn't man enough--hadn't the spunk of a rabbit.  I see I was weakening; so I just give up trying, and up and says: “He's white.” “I reckon we'll go and see for ourselves.” “I wish you would,” says I, “because it's pap that's there, and maybe you'd help me tow the raft ashore where the light is.  He's sick--and so is mam and Mary Ann.” “Oh, the devil! we're in a hurry, boy.  But I s'pose we've got to.  Come, buckle to your paddle, and let's get along.” I buckled to my paddle and they laid to their oars.  When we had made a stroke or two, I says: “Pap'll be mighty much obleeged to you, I can tell you.  Everybody goes away when I want them to help me tow the raft ashore, and I can't do it by myself.” “Well, that's infernal mean.  Odd, too.  Say, boy, what's the matter with your father?” “It's the--a--the--well, it ain't anything much.” They stopped pulling.  It warn't but a mighty little ways to the raft now. One says: “Boy, that's a lie.  What _is_ the matter with your pap?  Answer up square now, and it'll be the better for you.” “I will, sir, I will, honest--but don't leave us, please.  It's the--the--Gentlemen, if you'll only pull ahead, and let me heave you the headline, you won't have to come a-near the raft--please do.” “Set her back, John, set her back!” says one.  They backed water. “Keep away, boy--keep to looard.  Confound it, I just expect the wind has blowed it to us.  Your pap's got the small-pox, and you know it precious well.  Why didn't you come out and say so?  Do you want to spread it all over?” “Well,” says I, a-blubbering, “I've told everybody befo