I thought of the fate of Little John, who had been torn in pieces by the hounds, and of the scarcely less dreadful condition of those who had escaped the dogs only to fall into the hands of the overseer.

The yell of the dogs grew louder.

Escape seemed impossible.

I ran down to the creek with a determination to drown myself.

I plunged into the water and went down to the bottom; but the dreadful strangling sensation compelled me to struggle up to the surface.