Miss Lou made no reply, and the expression on all faces led him to ask quickly, “Why, what’s the matter?”

The young man’s brow grew black as Mr. Baron gave a hasty explanation.  A half-suppressed oath rose to his lips as he turned on his heel and shouted to his men, “Halt, there!  Let every man mount and await orders.  Simson, you and two others follow the guard I left with my horse.  Where’s that nigger who saw him start?  Here, you, put these men on his track as you value your life!  Simson, take him, dead or alive!”

The men saluted, and departed at once.  The galloping of their horses soon died away in the distance.  “Now for this beldam,” said Whately, sternly, as Aun’ Jinkey approached, tottering in her excess of fear and accompanied by Perkins.

Miss Lou saw that her cousin was terribly excited; indeed, that he fairly trembled with passion.  She was scarcely less stirred herself, for she possessed much of the hot blood of her kindled, and during the last twenty-four hours nearly all that had, occurred tended to fire her spirit.  Now that she saw her own dear old mammy led cowering under the hostile eyes of every one, she was almost beside herself with pity and anger.  Unaccustomed to conventional restraint, reacting from long years of repression, a child still in some respects, in others a passionate woman revolting at a fate from which her whole nature shrank, she was carried far above and beyond her normal condition, and was capable of following her impulses, whatever they might be.

Aun’ Jinkey turned her eyes appealingly, and was awed, even in that terrible moment, by the intensity of the girl’s expression, as she half consciously drew nearer and nearer.  The field-hands, deeply excited, had also edged up from the quarters.  Mr. Baron and his overseer observed yet tolerated this, thinking that it might be just as well to have the negroes learn from Aun’ Jinkey’s experience that authority would still be sternly enforced.

Whately’s headlong temperament was so overcome by anger that he noted nothing except the presence of one whom he believed the aider and abetter in his great loss, for a favorite and trusty horse is one of the dearest possessions of a cavalryman.

“Where’s your grandson?” he demanded, fiercely.

“‘Fo’ de Lawd, I dunno,” gasped Aun’ Jinkey.

“The truth, now, or you’ll be sorry.”

“I dunno, I dunno.  Ef he gone, he ain’ say neber a word ter me, not eben good-by.”

“No use of your lying.  You knew the rascal’s purpose.  Why didn’t you tell Mr. Baron?  Which way did he go?”

“I des declar, mars’r, I dunno.”

“You do know,” cried Whately, driven almost to frenzy, “and I’ll cut the truth out of you.”

His whip fell before he could arrest it, but it struck the arm and shoulder of Miss Lou.  She had drawn very near, and, swift as light, had sprung forward and encircled the form of her mammy.  There were startled exclamations from those near, echoed by a groan from the negroes, and then the girl spoke in stern, deep tones, “You thought to strike one woman, and you have struck two.”