trees and narrow rivers.  Eastward it descended to misty plains, westward the mountains rose, bounding a noble landscape of field and forest.  For many years the axe had swung and trees had fallen, but the forest yet descended to the narrow roads, observed itself in winding streams, gloomed upon the sunlit clearings where negroes sang as they tilled the soil.  In the all-surrounding green the plantations showed like intaglios.  From pleasant hillsides, shady groves, and hamlets of offices and quarters, the sedate red-brick, white-porticoed “great houses” looked easily forth upon a world which interested them mightily.

Upon a morning in late April of the year 1804, the early sunshine, overflowing such a plantation, dipped at last into a hollow halfway between the house and the lower gates, and overtook two young creatures playing at make-believe, their drama of the moment being that of the runaway servant.

“Oh, the sun!” wailed Deb.  “We can’t pretend it’s dark any longer!  God has gone and made another day!  We’ll see you running away,—­all of us white folk, and the overseer and Mammy Chloe!  If you climb this willow, the dogs will tree you like they did Aunt Dinah’s Jim!  Lie down and I’ll cover you with leaves like the babes in the wood!”

Miranda, a slim black limb of Satan in a blue cotton gown, flung herself with promptitude upon the ground.  “Heap de beech leaves an’ de oak leaves upon dis heah po’ los’ niggah.  Oh, my lan’! don’ you heah ’um comin’?”

Dead leaves fell upon her in a shower, and her accomplice gathered more with frantic haste.  “Oh, it’s the ghost in the tobacco-house! it’s a rock rolling down the mountain! it’s—­it’s something splashing in the swamp!”

“Is I a-hidin’ in de swamp?  Den don’ th’ow no oak leaves on dis niggah, for dey don’ grow dyar.  Gawd A’moughty, lis’en to de river roarin’!  I’s hidin’ by de river—­I’s hidin’ by de river!  I’s hidin’ by de river Jordan!”

Deb swayed to and fro, beating her hands in her excitement.  “I see a boat—­a great big boat!  It’s as big as the Ark!  The finders are in it, and the dogs and the guns!  Let us pray!  O Jesus, save Miranda, even though it is a scarlet sin to run away!  O Jesus, don’t let them take her to the Court House!  O Jesus, let them take me—­”

Miranda reared herself from her leafy bed.  “Humph! what you gwine do at de Co’te House?  Answer me dat!  I knows what de Lawd gwine say.  He gwine say, ‘Run for it, niggah!’ Yaas, Lawd, I sholy gwine do what you say—­I gwine run to de very aidge of de yearth.

     “Oh, I fool you, Mister Oberseer Man! 
     Oh, I fool you, my ole Marster! 
     Cotch de mockin’bird co’tin’ in de locus’,
     Cotch de bullfrog gruntin’ in de ma’sh,
     Cotch de black snake trabellin’ ’long his road,
     But you ain’ gwine see dis niggah enny mo’!

“Miss Deb, ef I gets to de big gate fust, you gwine lemme hol’ dat doll baby Marse Edward gin you?”