He thought he had hardly done so when Duncan touched his arm.

“Sorry to wake you, Allison, but time is precious; and, like the beggars, we must eat and run.”

The basket was heaped high with large, delicious berries, which greatly refreshed our travelers.

“Now, then, are you equal to another effort?” asked Duncan, as the last one disappeared, and he thrust the leaves into his pocket, adding, “We mustn’t leave these to tell tales to our pursuers.”

“Yes, I dare not linger here,” returned Allison, rising but totteringly.

Duncan threw an arm about him, and again they pressed forward, toiling on for another half-hour; when Allison again gave out, and sinking upon the ground, begged his friend to leave him and secure his own safety.

“Never!” cried Duncan, “never!  There would be more, many more, to mourn your loss than mine.  Who would shed a tear for me but Aunt Wealthy?  Dear old soul, it would be hard for her, I know; but she’d soon follow me.”

“Yes, you are her all; but there’s a large family of us, and I could easily be spared.”

Duncan shook his head.  “Was your brother who fell at Ball’s Bluff easily spared?  But hark! what was that?” He bent his ear to the ground.  “The distant bay of hounds!  We must push on!” he cried, starting up in haste.

“Bloodhounds on our track?  Horrible!” exclaimed Harold, also starting to his feet, weakness and fatigue forgotten for the moment, in the terror inspired by that thought.

Duncan again gave him the support of his arm, and for the next half-hour they pressed on quite rapidly; yet their pursuers were gaining on them, for the bay of the hounds, though still distant, could now be distinctly heard, and Allison’s strength again gave away.

“I—­can—­go no farther, Duncan,” he said, pantingly; “let me climb up yon tall oak and conceal myself among the branches, while you hurry on.”

“No, no, they would discover you directly, and it would be surrender or die.  Ah, see! there’s a little log cabin behind those bushes, and who knows but we may find help there.  Courage, and hope, my boy;” and almost carrying Harold, Duncan hurried to the door of the hut.

Pushing it open, and seeing an old negro inside, “Cato, Caesar——­”

“Uncle Scip, sah,” grinned the negro.

“Well, no matter for the name; will you help us?  We’re Federal soldiers just escaped from Andersonville, and they’re after us with bloodhounds.  Can you tell us of anything that will put the savage brutes off the scent?”

“Sah?”

“Something that will stop the hounds from following us—­quick, quick! if you know anything.”

The negro sprang up, reached a bottle from a shelf, and handing it to Harry, said, “Turpentine, sah; rub um on your feet, gen’lemen, an’ de hounds won’t follah you no moah.  But please, sahs, go little ways off into the woods fo’ you use um, so de rebs not tink dis chile gib um to ye.”