“My landy,” whispered Estralla, “dat was jes’ as easy.  W’at Uncle Pete do w’en he fin’s de boat gone?”

But it happened that Uncle Peter had been sent on an errand to a distant part of the town, and before he returned the Butterfly was well down the harbor.

Once or twice a guard-boat passed them closely enough to make sure that there were only two colored children in the boat, and they came up under the walls of Fort Sumter without a hindrance.  The sentries at the fort had watched the little craft with anxious eyes, wondering if it could be bringing any message.  But when the soldiers looked down at the two little negro girls they laughed, in spite of their disappointment.  When Sylvia said that her name was Sylvia Fulton, and that she had come to see Captain Carleton, a sentry exclaimed:  “That girl has blacked her face.  She is white.”

But Captain Carleton could hardly believe that it was his little friend Sylvia.  And he was eager to hear all that she could tell him.  Estralla held the cake and cookies, which she had carefully wrapped in a newspaper, and the Captain seemed as much pleased with the paper as with the cake.

“You can write a letter to Mrs. Carleton and we will take it,” suggested Sylvia, and then she told him Uncle Peter’s news:  that the President was sending ships to the aid of the fort.

“That is great news,” said the Captain; “if it is only true we may keep the fort for the Union.”

Within the hour of their arrival Sylvia and Estralla were on their way home.  The Captain had praised and thanked Sylvia for the loyal friendship that had prompted her visit.

“Mrs. Carleton and I will always remember your courage,” he said, as he handed her the letter.

“I am so glad I thought about it; but it was really Estralla.  She said if I was black we could come,” Sylvia had replied.

Then the boat swung clear and headed toward Charleston.

“I am not going to land at the big wharves,” said Sylvia.  “I am going to that wharf near Miss Patten’s garden.  And then we’ll tell Uncle Peter where the Butterfly is.”

It was early in the afternoon when Estralla appeared at the cloor of her mammy’s kitchen.

“Whar on airth you been?  An’ whar’s yo’ missy?” demanded Aunt Connie.  “Didn’ I makes her a fine om’lit fer her dinner, an’ it’s ruinated.”

“Missy wants a big pitcher of hot water,” replied Estralla, dancing about just beyond Aunt Connie’s reach.

“Missy Sylvia say to tell you we been carryin’ de cake to her fr’en’, an’ she gwine to tell you, Mammy,” explained Estralla when her mammy had finally grasped her firmly by the shoulders.

“W’y didn’ yo’ say dat firs’ place?  H’ar’s de hot water,” and Estralla hurried off to help Sylvia scrub off the sticky soot which had so well disguised her; and when Mrs. Fulton and Mrs, Carleton returned they found a very rosy-faced smiling little girl on the porch all ready to tell them of her trip to Fort Sumter, and to give Mrs. Carleton the longed-for news from her husband.