If the truth must be told, Uncle Plato had been dozing, and when he awoke he viewed the scene before him with astonishment. There was no need to cry "Halt!" or exclaim "Bang!" for as soon as the drummer began to beat his tin-pan, the horses stood still and craned their necks forward, with a warning snort, trying to see what this strange and unnatural proceeding meant. Uncle Plato had involuntarily tightened the reins when he was so rudely awakened, and the horses took this for a hint that they must avoid the danger, and, as the shortest way is the best way, they began to back, and had the waggon nearly turned around before Uncle Plato could tell them a different tale. "Ef I'd 'a' fell out'n de waggon, honey, who gwine ter pick me up?" he asked, laughing. "Why, no one is picked up in war!" "Is dis war, honey?" "Of course it is," Nan declared. "Does bofe sides hafter take part in de rucus?" asked Uncle Plato, making a terrible face at the little negroes. "Why, of course," said Nan. Seeing the scowl, Nan's veteran troops began to edge slowly toward the nearest breach in the fence. Uncle Plato seized his whip and pretended to be clambering from the waggon. At this a panic ensued, and Nan's army dispersed in a jiffy. The seasoned troops dropped their arms and fled. The four-year-old became lost or entangled in a thick growth of jimson weed, seeing which, Uncle Plato cried out in terrible voice, "Ketch um dar! Fetch um here!" Then and there ensued a wild scene of demoralisation and anarchy; loud shrieks and screams filled the air; the dogs barked, the hens cackled, and the neighbours began to put their heads out of the windows. Mrs. Absalom, who had charge of the Dorrington household, and who had raised Nan from a baby, came to the door--the defeat of the troops occurred right at Nan's own home--crying, "My goodness gracious! has the yeth caved in?" Then, seeing the waggon crosswise the road, and mistaking Nan's shrieks of laughter for cries of pain, she bolted from the house with a white face. Mrs. Absalom's reactions from her daily alarms about Nan usually resulted in bringing her into open and direct war with everybody in sight or hearing, except the child; but on this occasion, her fright had been so serious that when Nan, somewhat sobered, ran to her the good woman was shaking. "Why, Nonny!" cried Nan, hugging her, "you are all trembling." "No wonder," said Mrs. Absalom in a subdued voice; "I saw you under them waggon wheels as plain as I ever saw anything in my life. I'm gittin' old, I reckon." And yet there were some people who wondered how Nan could endure such a foster-mother as Mrs. Absalom.