Leathy was quickly getting tired. She had run a sliver in her finger. Every time she tried to cling tightly to a tree-limb the sliver pierced her hand anew. "Ain't we 'most thar?" she whispered. "Shore," called back Johnnie. "Luk out, thar, now. Ef yo' hain't keerful, yo're a-goin' ter slip." Leathy emitted a little scream. It was true, she was slipping. She tried to right herself. The sliver hurt. She tried to move her hand to ease it. Down she went! But she was still fast to the rope. Practical Johnnie extended his crutch. She grasped it. She clambered back into safety. On they went. But it was slow work--very slow work. Mollie was hampered by the baby on her back; but a better, less troublesome child it would have been difficult to find. Little Doris laughed and sang and clapped her chubby hands at everything. It was truly a venture of faith. Not one of that sad little procession had the slightest idea of the topography of the country save Johnnie. He declared that when he arrived at the farm he was brought along a river road. He remembered it because he had been looking at a boat that was just being docked. It dimly recalled to Mollie's mind the boat she remembered playing about when she was almost a baby. Perhaps if they could get to this river Johnnie told about, they could get in a boat. Then Grimes would surely never find them. But did the bogs extend to a road, and was there a river near that road? There was no one to answer the question. "Whar th' birds go thar has ter be sumpin' to eat an' drink," declared Mollie. "We-all is a-goin' ter foller th' sparrows, hain't we, Honey-chile?" Baby Doris tugged at Mollie's long braids and chirruped merrily: "Gittep--Gittep hossey!" She knew not the meaning of fear. Yet there were dangers all about them. The dangers were of the deadliest kind. The little boys knew it. Mollie knew it. There were poisonous bugs, insects and snakes. They infested the trees and foliage as well as the ground under the trees. Every move the children made, every step they took was a veritable gamble with death. But all along the line of mud-stained little pilgrims bright, alert, trained eyes kept watch, and acute little ears, ever attuned to detect the slightest sound that might mean a closely menacing danger, were constantly on duty.