Shif’less Sol led the way through the forest and four ghostly figures followed in single file.  They made no noise as they passed among the cypresses and magnolias, and oaks of the drooping foliage.  No one spoke, but the leader laughed more than once in his throat, a laugh which never passed the lips, but which was full of satisfaction nevertheless.  He felt that he, Solomon Hyde, nicknamed the shiftless one, had not lived in vain.  He had achieved the greatest triumph of a life already crowded with dangers and deeds.  To use the phrase of a later day, it was his crowded hour, and his four comrades gave him all the honor and glory of it.

They came presently to a still, dark channel of water, the bayou, and stopped on its bank.  A light wind had risen, and as it blew among the cypresses and magnolias and oaks of the drooping foliage, it blew the song of the triumph of Shif’less Sol.  The moonlight fell on his face now and as his features drew into a smile he, at last, permitted himself to laugh outright.

“It was wonderful, Sol,” said Henry.  “We always knew that you were near us, and we knew, too, that because you were near us we were near to freedom.”

He stepped forward, grasped the hand of the shiftless one, and gave it a fervent shake.  Paul at once did the same, then followed Long Jim and Tom Ross.  Shif’less Sol’s face became beatific.  He had received his silent tribute and it was enough.  The flavor of it would be with him all the rest of his life.

“What did you fellers think?” he asked, “when them two big knives came fallin’ down on the floor.  I’d hev called to you, but I wuz afeard I’d stir up them two sentinels on the other side of the house.”

“We knew it was you, Sol,” replied Paul, “and we knew then that our escape was certain.  Where did you get the knives?”

“I stole them from a tool house,” replied Sol with pride.  “I guess they use ’em to cut cane with, or something like that.”

“We certainly cut dirt with ’em at a great rate,” said Henry, “and here we are free, the five of us together again, but without arms except the two knives you threw to us.”

The moonlight was deepening and the shiftless one stood in the center of it.  His figure seemed suddenly to swell and the calm, victorious light of the supreme conqueror came into his eyes.

“Boys,” he said, and his voice was even and precise, as a victor’s should be, “when I undertook this here job o’ settin’ us on our feet agin, I undertook to do it all.  I not only meant to put us on our feet, but to git us ready fur runnin’, too.  Boys, I hev took ‘The Gall-yun’ from the Spaniards ag’in an’ she’s waitin’ fur us.”

“What! what!” they cried in chorus.  “You don’t mean it, Sol?”