“Down they went, under the dripping eaves; but when they reached the ground and held a whispered consultation, it came out that they hadn’t the slightest idea in which direction to go to join their commander; for they were all from the north, and perfectly unacquainted with the country. ‘Could the kind young lady give them some directions?’ ‘I will go as guide,’ she said. So they helped themselves to the six chargers of the six British officers sleeping snugly under her uncle’s roof, and she mounted her little sorrel pony, and away they went, through the rain and the darkness—slowly at first, lest the trampling of the horses’ feet should be heard, which likely would have been the case but for the ground being softened by the rain; after that they dashed along swiftly over hills and through forests, for it was a wild, uncultivated region through which their route lay. After riding a few miles they reached a rapid stream, so swollen by the freshets which prevailed just then—it was in January—so deep and rapid that it was almost impossible for the soldiers, even on their stout war-horses, to ford it, for there was no bridge. Kate and her little pony would surely have been swept away. So, as she could go no farther, she told them as clearly as she could how they were to turn to the right at such a cross-road, and to the left at another, and to the right again when they came to a certain old church; and if they kept straight ahead when they came to a certain tall pine tree, standing all alone by itself, they would reach the place where they expected to find Morgan. (As he was on the move all the time they couldn’t be so sure about that.) So, with a ‘God bless you!’ from the leader, which all his companions echoed, they plunged into the roaring torrent, and she turned back through the forest—where there were fierce bears and panthers, mind you; but fortunately the rain kept them in their dens that night. “When she reached home, all was as dark and silent as when she left; and when she peeped out again from her room, there was the guard nodding as before; but not really asleep. He hadn’t heard a sound. Poor fellow, the British Colonel and the rest were going to have him shot for sleeping at his post, when, next morning, they found the prisoners had gone and the horses too. How furiously angry they were! But, oh, the uncle! his eyes flashed lightnings, and his voice was like the thunder. Kate was wakened by his raging and storming, with all the black people up before him to be cross-questioned, and they declaring that ‘O massa, dey wouldn’ a-helped dem rebel trash away fur nuffin in de hull worl’!’ If they had, their lives wouldn’t have been worth much. Kate knew that, or she might have asked some of them to assist her. She meant to bear all the blame herself.” “Wasn’t she a trump, though!”