He saw great fun ahead in the
tricks he hoped to spring on his sisters and friends with the cunning
little reptile. Whenever the boat made a landing, he was always on deck
watching the negroes, as they rolled bales of cotton down the steep
bluffs or struggled with the refractory hogs who refused to come aboard.
The loud commands and fierce oaths of the mate made him feel very
grateful that he was not a roustabout. About five weeks from the time he
had so thoughtlessly embarked on the coal fleet, he stood hesitatingly
half a block from his mother's home, holding in his hand the cage
containing his red birds, while snugly stowed away in the bosom of his
shirt was his much cherished pet, the alligator. He was not sure of the
reception he would receive; but at length he steeled his nerves for
whatever was in store and made a rush for the house. The delighted
mother folded him in her arms and covered his face with kisses. His
brothers and sisters grouped around with words of welcome for the
prodigal.
"Thank God that you are safe home again, dear Paul," exclaimed his
mother, as she embraced him again and again.
"But what's this?"
She started back, for she had felt something squirming inside of his
shirt.
"Oh, that's my dear little alligator," and Paul put in his hand and
pulled out his pet.
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