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your own sister. I’ll take care of this,” said she, as she put the paper in her pocket. “Prince, my good fellow, come here—lie down by me and keep me warm. You are not my brother, Prince, you are only a dog. I’ve read somewhere that in Turkey they call Christians dogs; I wonder if dogs are ever Christians. Oh, Prince! what is the difference betwixt you and me?” Her soliloquy was cut short by Prince; he sprang up and took an attitude of defense, looked around at her with a low whine, and then was about to spring forward. She spoke to him and he came close to her side and licked her face; she looked up and saw a man not more than forty feet off, holding a blood-hound by a rope and a rifle on his shoulder. She sprang to her feet, and putting her hand on Prince’s head, she exclaimed, “Stand off, or Prince shall kill both you and your dog!” Making instant preparations to use his gun, he said, “We’ll talk this matter over. You see I have a right smart chance of advantage. Here are two of us and two dogs, and then you see, here is this gun. I have come after you, and I reckon you are a sensible girl, and will go along with me without compelling me to shoot that dog.” Oneda saw the point at once, and proposed to surrender, though not without conditions. After a long parley it was agreed that she should be taken to the Piketon jail, and that Prince should remain with her. He then untied his hound and sent him home. It was now almost dark, and as they went toward the town, which was not far off, she said, “This is Mr. Tice, I suppose.” “Yes,” said he, “Jake Tice, known from the Ohio River to the gulf as the great slave catcher. Ye see, this is the run-way, and if a slave runs off they just send the papers to me. If ye’d knowed that I reckon ye’d ’a gone the other side of the mountain.” “Have you just come from home?” asked Oneda. “Yes,” said Tice, “I jest ondid the old