Dinner and the hour of rest over, the hands started for the field. Everybody, save Mary, the mother of Runt, had gone, and she hunted everywhere for the fatherless waif, but could not find him. Squire Parks, Miss Jule, and Matt organized themselves into a searching party, but hunt where they would they could not find the little negro. The big bell that hung on the red oak in front of the lot gate was sounded, and all the workmen came in, knowing that the ringing of it meant a general alarm, and were formed into groups and sent to the fields to look for the missing child. Aunt Matt took a mirror and reflected the sun in the well, thinking that he might have tumbled in there. Every nook and corner about the barn and every wash, or gulley, or weed patch about the place was examined, but no trace of Runt was found. “Somebudy done tuck an’ stole dat chile,” said Matt. “Told you so. I knowed dat de Lawd wuz gwine to let somebudy have ’im dat woul’ care fur ’im. “Po’ little chile, I hope dat nothin’ ain’t happen to ’im.” For two hours the hunt continued. Mary was wailing and shouting like one possessed. Jerry, the wayward negro of the plantation, was racing everywhere, looking. When all had about concluded that the boy had been kidnaped, Miss Jule, who had become hot and tired, moving about in the broiling sun, and returned to the house, discovered a pair of little black, dirty feet sticking out from under a large hall table and, on making a closer examination, found that Runt had stolen in, crawled under the table and gone to sleep on the floor. Having put a pillow under the knappy head she notified the hunters and told Mary to go to her work and leave the child to her. Matt was very much disappointed, for she had looked into the well until she believed that she could see the body of a child on the bottom, and when Miss Jule called she was preparing to announce that she had found the little fellow; but, after seeing the feet and bowlegs, as they protruded from the table, was convinced that she was wrong. “Yes, Miss Jule, an’ de signs done come true,” declared the old darkey. “Dat’s de hongry pusson dat wuz comin’; dat chile des gut so hongry dat he couln’t stand hit no longer an’ come in. Po’ little thing.” “I am glad he made himself at home, Matt, I will adopt him.” “One thing, Miss Jule, I wuz glad to see dat Jerry lookin’ sad-lak ’bout his boy. He may not be so bad arter all. De Lawd put good in everybudy.” “Yes, and Jerry and Mary may marry some day, and make Runt a home; you can’t tell,” added Mrs. Parks. Runt was treated as a guest of the house. He slept unmolested for an hour, and when he waked he was taken to the kitchen and given the best the larder afforded. For a month he remained there, waxing fat and black and strong. Mary was delighted to be rid of him under the circumstances. The rooster had not given the clarion call in vain.