“See here, boy,” said one of the strangers, “have you seen anything of a young nigger about here within a day or two?” “What do you mean, one of them black fellers like that’n the bill tells about yonder?” “Yes, he’s the chap we want to find.” “Wal, no, I hain’t seen no such feller, but I hearn about him two or three days ago.” “How?” “Why I was a layin’ in the bushes up back of the church and the Gen’ral an’ Sam Fuller cum along and the Gen’ral sez he, ‘Fuller, that boy’s got to be got off. They’r arter him.’” “Who’s the General?” “Wal, that’s Mr. Bushnell. They say he keeps some of them black ’uns some times.” “Tell us what they said.” “Wal, Fuller he said, ‘What’s going to be done?’ and the Gen’ral said, ‘You come up with the team after dark and take him down to the tow-path that’s down in Pennsylvanee and tell him to keep north till he came to some colored fokeses and they’d send him to Jehu and then he’d be all right.’” “How far is it to the tow-path?” “O I don’t know; that’s on the canawl where they drive the hosses hitched to the boats, an’ I never was so fur from hum.” There was some farther parleying, seemingly entirely satisfactory to the strangers, then they dropped a “bit” into Dud’s hands, and under the influence of spurs two horses struck out briskly for the land of the Pennymights. “Dud, I say Dud, come here quick,” called the senior Tracy to the boy who stood gazing after the rapidly receding forms of the horsemen, and the junior slowly responded to the call. As soon as Dud was within the door the query was raised, “What did the gentlemen want?” “O nothing much, only they asked me if I’d seen the nigger advertised on the hand-bill yonder?” “Well, what did you tell them?” “O not much; I just yawned a little, telling them I heard the Gen’ral tell Mr. Fuller that he must get the boy down to Clarksville and start him north for Bishop, who would get him to the lake.” “Why, Dud, what a—” “Come now, dad, no accusations. Didn’t I just hear you tuning your gospel melody as much as to say, ‘Keep still up there,’ and didn’t I hear you tell mother last night, when you thought we children were asleep, you didn’t know what to do? But I did, and I’ve done it and now you needn’t try to keep this thing from me any longer. You’ve thought I don’t know what’s up, but I guess I’ve seen the last twenty darkies you’ve holed in the shop and Uncle Sam has taken away, and now that I’ve got those fellows off, I think you can afford to let me take a hand after this.” A look of astonishment, mingled with satisfaction, overspread the countenance of Azel Tracy at this revelation of the fact that his son was acquainted with so much of the method of the _road_, a thing of which he and many another parent, for prudential reasons, tried to keep their children in ignorance, and taking the hand of the boy he replied, “You shall have all the hand in it you wish, my son.”