"You sleep mighty sound, chile," said the old woman, as Frank rose from the bed. "I's sorry to be 'bilged to 'sturb you, but you must be gwine now. Here's a little bite for you to eat." As she spoke, she handed Frank a haversack, such as he had often seen used by the soldiers of the rebel army, filled with corn-bread and cold ham. Frank slung it over his shoulder, and, after pulling his rifle out from under the bed, said: "Aunty, I thank you for your kindness to"-- "Lor' A'mighty, chile!" interrupted the woman, "don't say one word 'bout dat, I tol' you. I's sorry we can't do more for you; but you must go away now. May de good Lor' bress you." The tears rolled down the old woman's cheeks as she said this, and Frank silently shook her hand, and followed Pomp out into the darkness. CHAPTER XIV. Chased by Blood-Hounds. The moon had gone down, the stars were hidden by thick, heavy clouds, and it was so dark that it was impossible to distinguish the nearest objects. Every thing was as silent as death; but this did not affect the vigilance of Pomp, who led the way with noiseless steps, pausing, now and then, to listen. They met with no difficulty, however, and, in a few moments, the plantation was left behind, and they entered the swamp. It was a chilly, gloomy place, and the darkness was impenetrable; but Frank relied implicitly on his guide, who seemed to understand what he was about, and kept as close behind him as possible. For an hour they traveled without speaking; at length Pomp stopped on the bank of a narrow but deep stream. "Can you swim, young massa?" he inquired, turning to Frank. "Yes, like a duck," was the reply. "I's mighty glad to h'ar it," said Pomp, "'cause den you're safe. But I's been mighty oneasy 'bout it, 'cause, if you can't swim, you're kotched, shore. Now," he continued, "I must leave you here, 'cause I don't want to let any one know dat I's been away from de plantation. You must cross dis creek, and foller dat road," pointing to a narrow, well-beaten bridle-path on the opposite bank, "an' dat will lead you straight to de Red Ribber. You must keep a good watch, now, 'cause you'll h'ar something 'fore long dat'll make you wish you had nebber been born. I's heered it often, an' I knows what it is. Good-by; an' de Lor' bress an' protect you;" and, before Frank could speak, Pomp had disappeared. Alone! The young hero had never before comprehended the full meaning of that single word, as he did now. Alone, in an almost unbroken forest, which was filled with enemies, who were thirsting for his blood; with no one to whom he could go for advice or assistance. Is it to be wondered that he felt lonely and discouraged?