Now it so happened that the day after Ed. was left in Wellsville, Mr. Pennock went in for a supply of iron. When he had made his purchase and was about to return to his hotel, the dealer, who like Mr. Pennock, was an underground man, said, “See here. Pennock, I’ve a _soft bar_ about six feet and a half long, I’d like to send up to Bonsall.” “How much does it weigh?” “About one sixty, I’d judge.” “That will make me a deal of a load, besides I don’t see how it can be done.” “You can leave that to me.” “Where is it; I’d like to see how it looks.” “No, that will not do. It is in Excelsior Station and the probabilities are there will be vigorous efforts made to recapture it, so you must ‘eyes off.’ If you undertake the carrying I will see to the rest.” “All right.” That night there was made a little readjustment of the wagon box, some hay and a blanket were placed on top of the projecting bars and there, extended at full length, was the form of Edward Howard, when in the early morning Mr. Pennock was ready to depart. Meanwhile his master had procured from a Virginia friend, a couple of good horses and himself as an assistant, and entered Wellsville on the morning of Mr. Pennock’s departure. After a half day’s fruitless search with the aid of an officer, they became satisfied that the object of their regard had been forwarded, so they took the road north. Overtaking the old blacksmith with his iron rattling along, they enquired, “Have you seen any nigger along the road?” “What kind of a one was he?” “Why a black one with a woolly head, tall and slim like a d—d yankee bean pole.” “Well, gentlemen, I haven’t seen no such a one, indeed I have seen none at all.” “Well, have you heard of any?” “I’ve not heard the word nigger since I left home, two days ago, until now.” “Where are you from?” “Salem, and like enough you’ll find him there, for they say them Bonsalls keeps a power of runaways.” “Well, we’re going up to see. Good day, sir.” “Good day, gentleman,” and each party pursued its way. That night Pennock stayed at the “Old Buckeye House,” New Lisbon, the wagon was run into the barn, and at a proper hour the “soft bar” was taken out and placed in the hay-mow, “to prevent rust,” as the blacksmith facetiously remarked to his friend Boniface. The next day on arriving home, he learned his interlocutors had preceded him some hours, and were registered at one of the taverns as cattle buyers or drovers rather, where young Coppoc had caught a glimpse of them, and informed his friends of their real character. On the morrow the pseudo dealers called on a neighboring farmer and desired to be introduced among the best stock raisers of the vicinity.