“Has yer had enough, chile?” asked the old woman.  “I’s glad to see yer eat.  I wants to do all I can for you Yankee sogers.”

“Oh, I’ve had a great plenty, aunty,” answered Frank, as he rose from the table.  “Now, I must bid you good-by,” he continued, as he pulled his rifle out from its hiding-place.  “I shall never be able to repay you; but”—­

“Lor’ A’mighty, chile!” interrupted the old woman, “whar’s you gwine?  You mustn’t say one word ‘bout gwine out o’ dis house dis night.  I’s got a bed all fixed for you, an’ Pomp will take you up early in de mornin’, an’ show you de way fru de swamp.”

“Put away dat gun, young massa,” chimed in Pomp; “dere’s no danger.”

Frank could not resist this appeal, for the bed, which the old woman had made for him in one corner of the cabin, rough as it was, was a pleasant sight to his eyes.  So, after hiding his rifle under one of the quilts, where he could get his hand upon it at a moment’s warning, he threw himself upon the bed without removing his clothes, and was fast asleep in a moment.  It seemed to him that he had hardly closed his eyes, when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Pomp’s voice whispered in his ear: 

“Wake up, young massa; ’most daylight.”

“You sleep mighty sound, chile,” said the old woman, as Frank rose from the bed.  “I’s sorry to be ’bilged to ’sturb you, but you must be gwine now.  Here’s a little bite for you to eat.”  As she spoke, she handed Frank a haversack, such as he had often seen used by the soldiers of the rebel army, filled with corn-bread and cold ham.  Frank slung it over his shoulder, and, after pulling his rifle out from under the bed, said: 

“Aunty, I thank you for your kindness to”—­

“Lor’ A’mighty, chile!” interrupted the woman, “don’t say one word ‘bout dat, I tol’ you.  I’s sorry we can’t do more for you; but you must go away now.  May de good Lor’ bress you.”

The tears rolled down the old woman’s cheeks as she said this, and Frank silently shook her hand, and followed Pomp out into the darkness.

CHAPTER XIV.

Chased by Blood-Hounds.

The moon had gone down, the stars were hidden by thick, heavy clouds, and it was so dark that it was impossible to distinguish the nearest objects.  Every thing was as silent as death; but this did not affect the vigilance of Pomp, who led the way with noiseless steps, pausing, now and then, to listen.  They met with no difficulty, however, and, in a few moments, the plantation was left behind, and they entered the swamp.  It was a chilly, gloomy place, and the darkness was impenetrable; but Frank relied implicitly on his guide, who seemed to understand what he was about, and kept as close behind him as possible.

For an hour they traveled without speaking; at length Pomp stopped on the bank of a narrow but deep stream.