He opened the door, and then threw up his hands in well-feigned surprise.

“Dere gone!” he exclaimed.

“What!” exclaimed the officer in charge of the firing squad.  “Impossible!”

He brushed the old negro aside and peered into the cell.  Then he turned to Uncle Billy and laid his hand on his shoulder.  “You are under arrest!” he said.

“What fo’, sah?”

“For aiding the prisoners to escape.”

“But, but—­”

“Silence!  To the general’s quarters!” he commanded his men.

Uncle Billy was led before General Steinberg.

“So!” thundered the latter, after the situation had been explained to him.  “A traitor, eh!”

Uncle Billy drew himself up proudly, and the years seemed to fall from his shoulders.

“I is no traitor, sah!” he said quietly, “Is I a traitor, sah, because I is willin’ ter die fer two li’l chillun, who is so like mah young massa?”

“What!” shouted the general.  “You admit it?”

“Yassah!”

General Steinberg’s face grew purple and he waved his arms about angrily.

“Then you shall die in their stead!” he shouted.  “Sergeant!  Take that black hound out and shoot him!  See that my order is carried out at once!”

The sergeant saluted and turned to Uncle Billy.

“Come!” he said.

With bowed head the old negro walked slowly from the hut.  Outside the squad of soldiers encircled him, and he was led away.

With his back to a wall and the line of soldiers facing him, their rifles grounded by their sides, Uncle Billy’s face turned chalky, and he trembled.

But, as the sergeant approached with a bandage for his eyes, the old negro regained his composure.

For the last time he drew himself to his full height; imperiously he waved the sergeant away, and his eyes met the gaze of his executioners unflinchingly.

“Ready!” came the voice of the sergeant.

“Take aim!”

“Fire!”

Without a murmur, Uncle Billy slid gently to the ground, his body riddled with bullets.

The sergeant hurried to his side, and placed a hand over his heart.  As he did so, the body of the old negro twitched, and he made an effort to rise.

The sergeant caught the faint sound of his voice.

“I’se a-comin’, massa; I’se a-co—­” came the old voice in a low whisper; and Uncle Billy’s body fell back inert.

The sergeant straightened up, and lifted his cap from his head.

“He is dead!” he said softly.

CHAPTER VIII.

In trouble again.

All night long the four companions continued their way without adventure.  Twice they saw lights of nearby towns, and upon each occasion they bore farther away from these signs of habitation.

The first gray dawn streaked the eastern sky before they drew rein at a little brook, where they sat down to rest for a few moments, and to allow their horses to quench their thirst.