fear of being heard by the soldiers.  Daylight had begun to dawn, and we felt good that we had succeeded thus far.  We went on quietly until we got entirely out of the swamp and reached some hills.  The woods were on each side of us and still thick; so we stopped here, on the side of a hill, where the sun shone brightly on us, expecting to rest for the day.  Our clothes had already become quite dry from the sunshine; and, so far, we felt all right.  Alfred and I had made a turn around the place, listening to see if we could hear any noise, or see any trace of soldiers; but we discovered no trace of them, and went back to our stopping place.  I had been asleep and some of the others were still asleep, when suddenly I heard the yelp of blood hounds in the distance.  It seemed quite far away at first, but the sound came nearer and nearer, and then we heard men yelling.  We knew now that they were on our trail, and became so frightened that we all leaped to our feet, and were about to run, when Uncle Alfred said:  “Stop children, let me oil you feet.”  He had with him a bottle of ointment made of turpentine and onions, a preparation used to throw hounds off a trail.  All stopped; and the women, having their feet anointed first, started off, Uncle Alfred telling them to run in different directions.  He and I were the last to start.  Alfred said:  “Don’t let the bushes touch you;” at the same time he ran through the bushes with such a rattling noise one could have heard him a great distance.  He wore one of those old fashioned oil cloth coats made in Virginia; and, as he ran, the bushes, striking against the coat, made a noise like the beating of a tin board with sticks.  The funny part of it was that, having cautioned us to be careful about noise, he made more than all of us.  By this time the woods were resounding with the yelping of the hounds and the cries of their masters.  The hounds numbered some fourteen.  The men howled and cheered in concert with the brutes, for they knew that they were on the right trail, and it would be but a short time before they caught us all.  I had gotten further away than any of them.  Having run about a mile, I came to a farm, and started across an open field, hoping to reach a wood beyond, where I might conceal myself.  Before I was half way across the field, on looking back, I saw the dogs coming over the fence, and knowing there was no chance of my getting to the woods, I turned around, and ran back to a persimmon tree, and just had time to run up one of the branches when the dogs came upon the ground.  I looked and saw the men, Williams the nigger-catcher, and Dr. Henry and Charles Dandridge.  As soon as Williams rode up, he told me to come down, but I was so frightened I began to cry, yet came down trembling.  The dogs laid hold of me at once, tearing my clothes and biting my flesh.  Dr. Dandridge was just riding up, and seeing what was happening, yelled out to Williams:  “I thought your dogs didn’t bite.”  “Oh! well,” said Williams, “he aint hurt—­we’ve got to let ’em bite a little.”