“My! What a lot of wood we’ve used this winter!” she said to herself. “The last time I was in here, last fall, the shed was nearly full. And now there’s only that pile in the middle.” She moved toward the back of the inclosure, her gaze searching the corners, then falling upon the irregularly piled sticks at the back of the neat cords. “There he is!” she exclaimed softly, as she saw a gray tail sticking out from between the logs. Speedily she bore down upon him. “Here, ‘yo’ good-fo’-nuthin’ cat,’” she muttered, “come out here.” She made a grab for his tail, but he whisked it suddenly aside, and went on, threading his way between the chunks of wood, his head stretched out and nostrils working. “Oh, you think you smell something, do you? Well, just come right along with me and see what you can smell in my room.” But she could not quite reach him, and she began tossing to one side the smaller sticks. In a moment her eyes fell upon the boarding of the hidden room. “What can that be?” she wondered, pausing in her work. With Charlotte, to have her curiosity aroused was only to fire her determination to have it assuaged. So now she eagerly threw out of the way the remaining pieces and saw plainly the tiny house. “There’s a door in it!” she whispered, and straight-way stepped up and peeped in. There she saw the negro runaway asleep upon the straw pallet. On the bench were the remains of his dinner, with pans and plates and cups which she recognized as having come from their own cupboard. For a moment she stared, bewildered. Then, as the boy stirred in his sleep, she picked up Bully Brooks, shut the door softly and hurried back to her room. Her thoughts darted at once to the heart of the mystery. “They’re stealing niggers, that’s what they’re doing, father and Rhoda! My! It’s worse than stealing horses, or money!” Her face was hot with indignation and her eyes blazing. “They ought to be arrested, even if they are my father and sister. Why, it might be one of Jeff’s niggers they’re stealing. Just think of it! Nigger thieves! They ought to be punished--they deserve to go to prison--and they would, too, if it was known!” She stopped in the midst of her fuming as an idea flashed across her mind. It took her breath away for a moment. Then she drew back from it with a little feeling of repugnance. But in a moment more her busy, resentful thought was hovering around it, experimenting with it, considering it with more and more of favor.