“Very well; we’re going into the Union lines.  You know the country hereabouts.  Help us to find our friends in the swamp, and we will take you all with us,” Jack said; but feeling a good deal of compunction, as he was not so sure that the freedom bestowed upon these guileless friends might not, for a time at least, be more of a hardship than their happy-go-lucky servitude.  Meanwhile, in the expansion of renewed hopes and full stomachs, no watch had been kept on the outside; a tallow dip had been lighted, and the whole party busied in getting together such necessaries as could be carried.  One of the boys, passing the door, uttered a stifled cry: 

“Somebody comin’ from de road.”

“Where can we hide?  Don’t put out the light; that will look suspicions!” Jack whispered, making for the window in the rear, “Is there a cellar, or can we get on the roof?” But the dark group were too terrified to speak.  They ran in a mob to the doorway, luckily the most adroit manoeuvre they could hit upon, for with the dip flaring in the current of air, the room was left in darkness.  Jack and Barney slipped through the low lattice, and by means of a narrow shed reached the low roof.  They could hear the tramp of horses, how many they could not judge, and then a gruff voice demanding: 

“You, Rafe, what ye up to?  What ye got a light burnin’ this time o’ night fo’?”

“‘Deed, marsa, it’s nuffin’—­fo’ God, marsa!  I was gittin’ de stomach bottle fo’ Gabe—­he eat some jelly root fo’ supper and he’s been powerful sick—­frow his insides out—­I—­”

“Leave your horses, boys.  Rafe’s got some of Hinton’s best sorghum whisky—­you, there, nigger, get us a jug and some cups.”

How many dismounted Jack couldn’t make out, but presently there was a heavy tramping in the cabin and then a ferocious oath.

“What does this mean; why have you got all these traps packed?  Going to cut to the Yankees!  Don’t lie, now—­you’ll get more lashes for it.”

Jack listened breathlessly.  Would the quavering slaves have presence of mind to divert suspicion?  There was a pause, and then the old man cried, pleadingly: 

“We’se gwine to lebe dis place; we’s gwine up to de house in de mornin’.  My ole woman can’t come down heah now, case de sojers is always firm’, and Mars’ Hinton told us to come to de quarters, sah.”

“I don’t believe a word of it, you old rascal.  I’ll see whether Hinton has ordered you to leave here.  Likely story, indeed; leave one of his best fields with no one to care for it.  Git the whisky and stop your mumbling.  You, there, you young imps, step about lively—­do you heah?”

There was the sound of a sharp stroke, then a howl of pain and a boisterous laugh.

“You keep an eye on the rear and I will see how many horses there are,” Jack’s lips murmured in Barney’s ear.  He slid cautiously down the slanting roof until he came to the corner where he saw the dark group of horses.  There were three—­tied to the peach-trees.  He made his way back to Barney and whispered: