It was nearly sundown before the white pillars of Judkins Hall showed through the fringe of willows on the river bank. The red light of the setting sun flooded the south portico and a pane of glass in a window, catching a ray at an angle, burned like a bright eye for an instant as we drifted past. Dunmore reluctantly consented to send us ashore in a boat with Mr. Johnson and a guard of soldiers to see if anyone remained at the Hall, and if so, to help carry what luggage there was to be sent aboard the frigate. My slaves could follow us in the small craft. As the boat drew near the beach, where only a few days before Bullbeggor had won his strange victory over Harrison, we looked for some signs of welcome from our people. Not a leaf stirred in the calm of the bend, and not a sound from the shore broke the ominous stillness of that warm, clear evening. None of us spoke and even Barron's face appeared grave with some thought of impending evil. The sun shone on the sweating faces of the rowers, and the regular clank of their oars in the row-locks beat time to my heart throbs as I waited to learn what was wrong. When the boat's keel struck the sand, we sprang quickly ashore and proceeded rapidly by the river path toward the Hall. On entering the fringe of bushes and undergrowth on the river bank I thought I heard a strange noise close by me to the right. We stopped a moment and listened, but the four men and Mr. Johnson, who were following close behind us, came up, and we started on again toward the Hall. All of a sudden I heard a faint cry. "Marse Dick!" it said feebly, and the voice came from the direction I had first heard the noise. Barron, Byrd and myself heard the cry simultaneously, and we instantly started toward the spot from whence it came. The next minute we broke through a thicket of blackberry bushes, and found a small cleared spot in the midst of the grass and briars. There, lying upon his back, with his left hand held over a nasty cut in his abdomen, was my boy, Sam. The poor fellow saw me and I caught his glad look of recognition, but his glance wandered back of me to Mr. Johnson and his men, and his look turned to one of savage fury. He started to rise, but I quickly held him in my arms while the rest crowded around us. "What's happened?" I gasped. "Where is mother and Mary--and Miss Carter?" "Miss Mary, she gone wid Marse Berk--all alone--old missus and Miss Rose gone away, too," said the poor fellow, with great difficulty. I looked at Will and saw him turn ashy pale and his jaws set until the bands of muscle in his lean face seemed about to break with the strain. "What rascal do you suppose did this?" asked Mr. Johnson, coming up closer and noticing the look on Will's face. But no one answered.