“I’ll think so when I lose my senses.”

“Well, now, I don’t belieb you’re ‘fraid, not de way I yeard you talkin’ to de oberseer wen he war threatnin’ to hit your mudder.  He saw you meant business, an’ he let her alone.  But, what’s to hinder you from gwine wid us?”

“My mother,” he replied, in a low, firm voice.  “That is the only thing that keeps me from going.  If it had not been for her, I would have gone long ago.  She’s all I’ve got, an’ I’m all she’s got.”

It was touching to see the sorrow on the strong face, to detect the pathos and indignation in his voice, as he said, “I used to love Mirandy as I love my life.  I thought the sun rose and set in her.  I never saw a handsomer woman than she was.  But she fooled me all over the face and eyes, and took up with that hell-hound of a trader, Lukens; an’ he gave her a chance to live easy, to wear fine clothes, an’ be waited on like a lady.  I thought at first I would go crazy, but my poor mammy did all she could to comfort me.  She would tell me there were as good fish in the sea as were ever caught out of it.  Many a time I’ve laid my poor head on her lap, when it seemed as if my brain was on fire and my heart was almost ready to burst.  But in course of time I got over the worst of it; an’ Mirandy is the first an’ last woman that ever fooled me.  But that dear old mammy of mine, I mean to stick by her as long as there is a piece of her.  I can’t go over to the army an’ leave her behind, for if I did, an’ anything should happen, I would never forgive myself.”

“But couldn’t you take her with you,” said Robert, “the soldiers said we could bring our women.”

“It isn’t that.  The Union army is several miles from here, an’ my poor mammy is so skeery that, if I were trying to get her away and any of them Secesh would overtake us, an’ begin to question us, she would get skeered almost to death, an’ break down an’ begin to cry, an’ then the fat would be in the fire.  So, while I love freedom more than a child loves its mother’s milk, I’ve made up my mind to stay on the plantation.  I wish, from the bottom of my heart, I could go.  But I can’t take her along with me, an’ I don’t want to be free and leave her behind in slavery.  I was only five years old when my master and, as I believe, father, sold us both here to this lower country, an’ we’ve been here ever since.  It’s no use talking, I won’t leave her to be run over by everybody.”

A few evenings after this interview, the Union soldiers entered the town of C——­, and established their headquarters near the home of Thomas Anderson.

Out of the little company, almost every one deserted to the Union army, leaving Uncle Daniel faithful to his trust, and Ben Tunnel hushing his heart’s deep aspirations for freedom in a passionate devotion to his timid and affectionate mother.

CHAPTER IV.

ARRIVAL OF THE UNION ARMY.