I sot up till midnight, and when they was all gone to bed, I went softly into the back gate, and went up to the porch, and thar, shore enuff, was a grate big meal-bag hangin’ to the jice. It was monstrous unhandy to git to it, but I was ’tarmined not to back out. So I sot some chairs on top of a bench and got hold of the rope and let myself down into the bag; but jest as I was gittin’ in, the bag swung agin the chairs, and down they went with a terrible racket. But nobody didn’t wake up but old Miss Stallinses grate big cur dog, and here he cum rippin’ and tarin’ through the yard like rath, and round and round he went tryin’ to find what was the matter. I sot down in the bag and didn’t breathe louder nor a kitten, for fear he’d find me out, and after a while he quit barkin’. The wind begun to blow ’bominable cold, and the old bag kep turnin’ round and swingin’ so, it made me sea-sick as the mischief. I was ’fraid to move for fear the rope would brake and let me fall, and thar I sot with my teeth ratlin’ like I had a ager. It seemed like it would never come daylight, and I do b’lieve if I didn’t love Miss Mary so powerful I would froze to deth; for my hart was the only spot that felt warm, and it didn’t beat more’n two licks a minit, only when I thought how she would be sprised in the mornin’, and then it went in a canter. Bimeby the cussed old dog come up on the porch and begun to smell about the bag, and then he barked like he thought he’d treed something. “Bow! wow! wow!” ses he. Then he’d smell agin, and try to git up to the bag. “Git out!” ses I, very low, for fear they would hear me. “Bow! wow! wow!” ses he. “Be gone! you ’bominable fool,” ses I, and I felt all over in spots, for I ’spected every minit he’d nip me, and what made it worse, I didn’t know whar ’bouts he’d take hold. “Bow! wow! wow!” Then I tried coaxin’: “Come here, good feller,” ses I, and whistled a little to him, but it wasn’t no use. Thar he stood and kep up his eternal whinin’ and barkin’, all night. I couldn’t tell when daylight was breakin’, only by the chickens crowin’, and I was monstrous glad to hear ’em, for if I’d had to stay thar one hour more, I don’t b’lieve I’d ever got out of that bag alive. Old Miss Stallins come out fust, and as soon as she saw the bag, ses she: “What upon yeath has Joseph went and put in that bag for Mary? I’ll lay it’s a yearlin’ or some live animal, or Bruin wouldn’t bark at it so.” She went in to call the galls, and I sot thar, shiverin’ all over so I couldn’t hardly speak if I tried to—but I didn’t say nothin’. Bimeby they all come runnin’ out. “My lord, what is it?” ses Miss Mary. “Oh, it’s alive!” ses Miss Kesiah, “I seed it move.” “Call Cato, and make him cut the rope,” ses Miss Carline, “and let’s see what it is. Come here, Cato, and git this bag down.” “Don’t hurt it for the world,” ses Miss Mary.