"Yo' boys'll hev ter help Leathy, an' take keer on her. She's th' least-un, 'ceptin' Honey, an' I'll hev her on my back," said Mollie. In lieu of any other name for the new baby, Mollie had called her Honey, and by that name the children now knew her. Some of the boys wanted to start at once. Mollie was firm in her opposition. Despite her youth, she had an old head. She had been made old by the experiences through which she had passed. "No," she counseled. "Not till jist 'fore sun-up. We gotter hev light 'nuff ter see whut we air a-doin'. An' when we air ready ter go, I--golly, we-all's got ter git acrost thet thar bog en such a swivvet he won't be able ter tell one o' us frum t'other." Then she made the little ones all say their prayers and lie down for a bit of rest, promising to call them in plenty of time. But for herself there was no rest. For hours she mounted guard. From the darkness and quietness of the Grimes dwelling it finally became evident that the ogre had gone to rest and would not disturb them again that night. The undertaking Mollie proposed was so hazardous that no person of mature years would ever have conceived it. The idea of dragging a dozen small children, including a cripple and a baby, strung together by a rope and equipped only with a small, wooden crutch, across those man-eating swamps and quagmires was so beyond the bounds of reasonable possibility that the mere mention of it to any denizen of the locality would have been considered proof of the person's mental irresponsibility. Of this, however, Mollie was blissfully unaware. From her viewpoint and under existing circumstances it was the only way out and she was going that way. Through the hours she watched the stars. Then, just before the first faint streaks of dawn lighted the sky she went from bed to bed, and from child to child, whispering the words that brought each little dreamer up with a start, eager to put their plan into action. It was still dark. That intense darkness that comes just before dawn and everything was very, very still. The plans had been well laid and the children well instructed. Their training in obedience was a wonderful asset. There was no talking, no confusion. Like a band of busy little gnomes they worked, silently, swiftly. Burlap bags were filled with straw and hay. They were for Walter to walk on, that the thud of his hoofs might not arouse the ogre. The little boys attended to that part of the work. The girls looked after the baby while Mollie attended to everything.