Not for a moment did he think the children could be trying to escape. There was no place to escape to. This must be some kind of an army of robbers. They were stealing Walter. Or else the police his Paw had been talking about had come to arrest them. It was this last thought which terrified him sufficiently to make him cower in silence long enough for the brave little band of children to eject the horse from the home where he, as well as they, had never known happiness, and send him at a canter down the road to the pike. Then the gate was re-locked and the ogre's pants, with the key attached, were thrown in the bog. It took but a moment to secure baby Doris to Mollie's back. The child laughed and crowed with delight at such a novel way of playing "ridey-horse." "Quick, Willie, fling th' rope up to the limb o' thet tree yan," ordered Mollie. Away went the heavy rope. It caught and tightened upon the limb of a tall tree standing upon a tiny oasis of more solid ground well out in the bog. Thank God! It held. "Now, chil'en," said Mollie, "we-uns has all said our pra'rs. We's tol' God whut we air a-goin' ter do an' axed Him ter holt us up. So we doan need ter git skeered. Jist leave arything ter Him an' keep a-goin'. Now! Yo' air all fixed tight. I'll go fust." And Mollie, with Harris Wayne's baby girl strapped on her back, looked fearlessly up at the heavenly glow far in the east and stepped off into the bog, her hands clutching the rope to which they were all tied. And from the house came a wild cry of alarm. "Paw--Paw--Git up! Th' young-uns is doin' sumpin'. Hit wa'n't police. Hit war Mollie. She's got 'em in th' bog!" CHAPTER XXI CROSSING THE BOG "He led them through the depths as through the wilderness."--Ps. cvi, 9 Peter bounded from his bed in a daze. What was Ambrose yelling about? Was the house afire? He reached, from force of habit, for his pants. His hand failed to touch them. "Whar be they?" he thundered. "Whar en hell es my pants?" Maria was awake, too, groping about for a light. "Hain't they whar yo' put 'em?" she asked. "Naw, they hain't," he shouted. "Somebody's tuk 'em. Hit's thet Mollie--thet's who hit es." He pranced about, roaring invectives, while Maria made a light and Ambrose appeared in the doorway. "Whar be they?" he repeated. "War she in hyar? Whar'd yo' see her?" "Out in th' yard," cried Ambrose, trembling with excitement. "She war a-goin' es ef th' devil hed kicked her on end. Gosh! but she war a-steppin'. An' they shoved ole Walter outten th' gate--" Grimes gave a whoop. "Whut!" he cried. "Whar war yo'? Ef yo' seed hit, whyn't yo' yell? Yo' kin make noise 'nuff 'bout nawthin'." He tore down the stairs and out into the yard with no further thought of pants. He did not propose to lose his horse as well. But the great gate was locked. The key was attached to the pants. The pants were gone. The Grimes family were prisoners in their own home.