“Do you know,” said Louis, “where I will find the Lincoln soldiers, or where the secesh are encamped?”

“No,” said she “but my old man’s mighty smart, and he’ll find out; you come wid me.”

Nothing doubting he went, and found the husband ready to do anything in his power to help him.

“You’s better not go any furder to-day.  I’ll get you a place to hide where nobody can’t find you, and then I’ll pump Massa ’bout the sojers.”

True to his word, he contrived to find out whether the soldiers were near.

“Massa,” said he, scratching his head, and looking quite sober, “Massa, hadn’t I better hide the mules?  Oh I’s ’fraid the Linkum sojers will come take ’em, cause dey gobbles up ebery ting dey lays dere hans on, jis like geese.  I yerd dey was coming; mus’ I hide de mules?”

“No, Sam, the scalawags are more than a hundred miles away; they are near Natchez.”

“Well, maybe, t’was our own Fedrate soldiers.”

“No, Sam, our nearest soldiers are at Baton Rouge.”

“All right Massa.  I don’t want to lose all dem fine mules.”

As soon as it was convenient Sam gave Louis the desired information.  “Here,” said Sam, when Louis was ready to start again, “is something to break your fast, and if you goes dis way you musn’t let de white folks know what you’s up to, but you trust dis,” said he, laying his hand on his own dark skin.

His new friend went with him several miles, and pointing him out the way left him to pursue his journey onward.  The next person he met with was a colored man, who bowed and smiled, and took off his hat.

Louis returned the bow, and was passing on when he said, “Massa, ’scuse me for speakin’ to you, but dem secesh been hunting all day for a ’serter, him captin dey say.”

Louis turned pale, but bracing his nerves he said, “Where are they?”

“Dey’s in the house; is you he?”

“I am a Union man,” Louis said, “and am trying to reach the Lincoln soldiers.”

“Den,” said the man, “if dat am de fac I’s got a place for you; come with me,” and Louis having learned to trust the colored people followed him to a place of safety.

Soon it was noised abroad that another deserter had been seen in that neighborhood, but the colored man would not reveal the whereabouts of Louis.  His master beat him severely, but he would let neither threats nor torture wring the secret from his lips.

Louis saw the faithfulness of that man, and he thought with shame of his former position to the race from whom such unswerving devotion could spring.  The hunt proving ineffectual, Louis after the search and excitement had subsided resumed his journey Northward, meeting with first one act of kindness and then another.

One day he had a narrow escape from the bloodhounds.  He had trusted his secret to a colored man who, faithful like the rest, was directing him on his way when deep ominous sounds fell on their ears.  The colored man knew that sound too well; he knew something of the nature of bloodhounds, and how to throw them off the track.