At one side of the room was a steep flight of stairs which gave access to the loft overhead. Mrs. Hicks, by a gesture, signified that Betty and Hannibal were to ascend these stairs; they did so and found themselves on a narrow landing inclosed by a partition of rough planks, this partition was pierced by a low door. Mrs. Hicks, who had followed close at their heels, handed the candle to Betty. “In yonder!” she said briefly, nodding toward the door. “Wait!” cried Betty in a whisper. “No,” said the woman with an almost masculine surliness of tone. “I got nothing to say.” She pushed them into the attic, and, closing the door, fastened it with a stout wooden bar. Beyond that door, which seemed to have closed on every hope, Betty held the tallow dip aloft, and by its uncertain and flickering light surveyed her prison. The briefest glance sufficed. The room contained two shakedown beds and a stool, there was a window in the gable, but a piece of heavy plank was spiked before it. “Miss Betty, don't you be scared,” whispered Hannibal. “When the judge hears we're gone, him and Mr. Mahaffy will try to find us. They'll go right off to Belle Plain--the judge is always wanting to do that, only Mr. Mahaffy never lets him but now he won't be able to stop him.” “Oh, Hannibal, Hannibal, what can he do there--what can any one do there?” And a dead pallor overspread the girl's face. To speak of the blind groping of her friends but served to fix the horror of their situation in her mind. “I don't know, Miss Betty, but the judge is always thinking of things to do; seems like they was mostly things no one else would ever think of.” Betty had placed the candle on the stool and seated herself on one of the beds. There was the murmur of voices in the room below; she wondered if her fate was under consideration and what that fate was to be. Hannibal, who had been examining the window, returned to her side. “Miss Betty, if we could just get out of this loft we could steal their skiff and row down to the river; I reckon they got just the one boat; the only way they could get to us would be to swim out, and if they done that we could pound 'em over the head with the oars the least little thing sinks you when you're in the water.” But this murderous fancy of his failed to interest Betty. Presently they heard Sherrod and Bunker come up from the shore with George. Slosson joined them and there was a brief discussion, then an interval of silence, and the sound of voices again as the three white men moved back across the field in the direction of the bayou. There succeeded a period of utter stillness, both in the cabin and in the clearing, a somber hush that plunged Betty yet deeper in despair. Wild thoughts assailed her, thoughts against which she struggled with all the strength of her will.