"I wish you'd shot him. He brought me here and played a joke on me. He told me this was a house I could sleep in, and shut me up in here,--and blest if I don't b'lieve it's nothin' but a hen-house. Let me out here a minute," he continued, after a pause, cajolingly. "No, I won't," said Willy firmly, getting his gun ready. There was a pause, and then from the depths of the hen-house issued the most awful groan: "Umm! Ummm!! Ummmm!!!" Willy was frightened. "Umm! Umm!" was repeated. "What's the matter with you?" asked Willy, feeling sorry in spite of himself. "Oh! Oh! Oh! I'm so sick," groaned the man in the hen-house. "How? What's the matter?" "That man that fooled me in here gave me something to drink, and it's pizened me; oh! oh! oh! I'm dying." It was a horrible groan. Willy's heart relented. He moved to the door and was just about to open it to look in when a light flashed across the yard from Uncle Balla's house, and he saw him coming with a flaming light-wood knot in his hand. CHAPTER V. Instead of opening the door, therefore, Willy called to the old man, who was leisurely crossing the yard: "Run, Uncle Balla. Quick, run!" At the call Old Balla and Frank set out as fast as they could. "What's the matter? Is he done kill de chickens? Is he done got away?" the old man asked, breathlessly. "No, he's dyin'," shouted Willy. "Hi! is you shoot him?" asked the old driver. "No, that other man's poisoned him. He was the robber and he fooled this one," explained Willy, opening the door and peeping anxiously in. "Go 'long, boy,--now, d'ye ever heah de better o' dat?--dat man's foolin' wid you; jes' tryin' to git yo' to let him out." "No, he isn't," said Willy; "you ought to have heard him." But both Balla and Frank were laughing at him, so he felt very shamefaced. He was relieved by hearing another groan. "Oh, oh, oh! Ah, ah!" "You hear that?" he asked, triumphantly. "I boun' I'll see what's the matter with him, the roscol! Stan' right dyah, y' all, an' if he try to run shoot him, but mine you don' hit _me_," and the old man walked up to the door, and standing on one side flung it open. "What you doin' in dyah after dese chillern's chickens?" he called fiercely. "Hello, old man, 's 'at you? I's mighty sick," muttered the person within. Old Balla held his torch inside the house, amid a confused cackle and flutter of fowls. "Well, ef 'tain' a white man, and a soldier at dat!" he exclaimed. "What you doin' heah, robbin' white folks' hen-roos'?" he called, roughly. "Git up off dat groun'; you ain' sick." "Let me get up, Sergeant,--hic--don't you heah the roll-call?--the tent's mighty dark; what you fool me in here for?" muttered the man inside. The boys could see that he was stretched out on the floor, apparently asleep, and that he was a soldier in uniform. Balla stepped inside. "Is he dead?" asked both boys as Balla caught him by the arms, lifted him, and let him fall again limp on the floor.