out; and _Lois_, the woman you saw, has been my housekeeper since. I shouldn’t like the North to take her from me. They tried it once,—when a squad of ’em ransacked my house,—and I was sick in bed. Maude threatened to blow their brains out: and, sir, she would have done it, too, if the scamps hadn’t let Lois alone. “I don’t agree with your folks on the nigger question, though none of mine has run away since the Proclamation, which I did not like. They know, too, they are free, or will be when the Yankees come, for I took pains to tell them, and gave them liberty to cut stick for the Federal lines as soon as they pleased; but they staid, and great help I find them in the business I’m carrying on. They are constantly on the lookout for runaways or refugees, and are quite as good as bloodhounds to scent one. They told me about _you_, and I watched and saw you go into that cave, which is on my land, and which few know about, or if they do they think it a springhole, and never dream that anybody can hide in there. Somebody else must have seen you, too, for word came that a man was hiding in the mountains, and as the acknowledged leader of as hard a set as ever hunted a Yankee, I went with ’em to find you, and carried in my pocket that bacon and corn bread which I managed to drop into the cave when I sat with my back against it. I knew you must be hungry, and it might be some time before I could come to your aid. We didn’t find the chap; but to-morrow they’ll be at it again, and so, while I help ’em hunt for a man about your build, you will stay in the room in Lois’s charge. Maude has a good many gimcracks here, such as books and things, which may amuse you. She is coming home by and by. The house is very different then. You ought to see Maude. We are very proud of her. That’s her picture, only not half so good-looking,” and he pointed to a small oil painting hanging above the mantel. It was a splendid head, and the glossy black hair bound about it in heavy braids gave it a still more regal look. The eyes, too, were black, but very soft and gentle in their expression, though something about them gave the impression that they might flash and blaze brilliantly under excitement. It was a beautiful face, and Will did not wonder that his host was proud of his niece,—prouder even than of the pale-faced, delicate boy, who next day, while the hunt for the runaway went on among the mountains, tried to entertain Will Mather by telling him of his old home in North Carolina, and how happy they were there before the war came and took his father away.