"The same to you and your dear wife, sir, with all my soul in the prayer!" responded the farmer. "And here, Mr. Nye, is a testimonial--I mean a memorandum--that is to say, something I wish you to take for my sake." "A keepsake, sir?" "If you choose to consider it so, yes." "What might it be sir?" inquired the farmer, receiving from Mr. Berners the small envelope containing the large note. "It _might_ be a lock of my wife's hair, or it might be my miniature; but whatever it is, hold it tight, and do not look at it until you get back to the house." "All right, sir; but you have raised my curiosity," replied the farmer, as he carefully deposited his unsuspected little fortune into the pocket of his waistcoat. "Now direct me as to how I shall find the best and most private road westward," said Lyon, gathering the reins in his hands. "You are facing east now. Ride straight on for about a hundred yards, till you come to the cross-roads, then take the road to your left, and follow it for about an eighth of a mile until you come to another road still on your left; take that and follow it as far as you please, for it leads straight west." "Thank you again and again! We shall do very well now. Good-bye, all; and God bless you forever!" exclaimed Lyon Berners, waiving his hat in adieus to the friends he was leaving behind. Then, the husband and wife rode forth in the night together. Before we follow them, we will see how it fared with the faithful friends who had risked so much in their service. CHAPTER XXXIV. THE PURSUIT. Horse! horse! * * * * and chase!--MARNION. Farmer Nye and Robert Munson remained standing with their heads uncovered, looking after the fugitives until the sound of their horses' hoofs died away in the distance, and then they turned towards each other and impulsively grasped each the other's hand, and shook hands as comrades. Next Farmer Nye turned to the negroes who were squatting about the stable-yard, wondering, no doubt, at all they had seen and heard; and he told them to disperse to their quarters, and keep still tongues in their heads, if they wished to keep their heads on their shoulders. "And now we'll go back to the house and get a drop of home-brewed, and go to bed," said the farmer, starting off at a brisk trot, and beckoning his young companion to follow him. "I mean to manage so as Old Purley shall be made to believe as the prisoner escaped through _his_ door," said Munson, as he came up. "That'll be bully!" said the farmer. They went back to the house, consulted the tall old-fashioned clock in the corner of the hall, found it was just eleven, and they took their drop of "home-brewed," and went to rest.