"Mammy!" she exclaimed, "where's Chunk?" "Fo' de Lawd, honey, I doan know. I des gwine all ter pieces wid de goin's on." "But people will be here looking. Is he up there?" asked the girl in a whisper. "No, he des lit out two hour ago, en he guv me dis" (showing the money), "en say he see me agin. I'se feared he'n Chunk gwine off togeder." "Well, you don't know. Hide the money and declare you don't know anything. I'll stand by you as far as I can." As she hastened back she saw a Confederate soldier running toward the house and Perkins limping after him as fast as possible. Entering the rear door she heard the soldier demanding fiercely of her uncle, "Where's that cursed nigger you call Chunk?" "Whom are you addressing, sir?" asked Mr. Baron, indignantly. "Well, see yere, boss," was the excited reply, "this ere ain't no time fer standin' on nice words. That cursed nigger o' your'n took the lieutenant's horse ter the run fer a drink, an one o' your'n 'long of him, en me en Perkins kyant find nary one of 'em." "Yes, sir," added Perkins in great wrath, "we uns follered the hoof-prints ter the run en inter the water, en there's no hoof-prints comin' back. That infernal nigger has lit out with the two horses." "Why don't you go after him then?" shouted Mr. Baron, distracted with anger and accumulating perplexities. "He can't be far yet." "I'd like ter see the hoss on this place that could ketch the lieutenant's black mare. Oh, why didn't I shoot the nigger?" and the soldier strode up and down as if demented. "You deserve to be shot yourself, sir, if you, who had been placed on guard, permitted that black rascal to take the horses." "Yes," replied the soldier, desperately, "en the lieutenant is ther man ter shoot me--cuss his red-hot blood!" and he stalked away toward the stables as if possessed by a sudden resolve. Turning to enter the house, Mr. Baron encountered his niece, who had been a witness to the scene, which explained everything to her. "You see, you see," cried the old man, "everything going to rack and ruin! Would to Heaven you could be married to-night and sent away to a place of safety!" "Uncle," said the girl, almost fiercely, "did you not hear that man say of my cousin, 'curse his red-hot blood'? Is that the kind of a protector you would force upon me?" "Yes," almost shouted the angry man, "because he has the spirit to deal justly with such reprobates. He's just the kind of protector you need in these lurid times, when it seems as if no one could be trusted. To think that that boy Chunk, who has been treated so well, could play us such an infernal trick! His old crone of a grandam must know something about it, and I'll make her tell. Perkins!" and Mr. Baron rushed toward the door again. The ladies had now descended and joined the excited group on the veranda. Zany was listening with craned neck from the dining-room door, and other "yard folks," great and small, were gathering also.