of
the house. It was a large room, filled with books and family portraits,
and in it were assembled the host (Mr. Carter Peyton) and his children.
The latter were still engaged in petting Waggie, who began to look a
trifle bored. From the manner in which they ruled the house it was plain
that their father was a widower. At the request of Mr. Peyton, George sang
his whole repertoire of melodies, and the dog once more repeated his
tricks. Watson was given a seat in one corner of the study. "It's time we
were off," he thought.

As Waggie finished his performance Watson rose, and stretched out his hand
towards George.

"Let's be going," he said.

"All right," answered George. He was about to say good-bye, and lead his
companion to the door, when a turbaned negress entered the room.

"Massa Peyton, Massa Charles Jason done ride oveh heh ta see you."

"Is he here now?" asked Mr. Peyton. "Then show him in. I wonder what's the
matter? It is not often that Jason gets this far away from home." The girl
retired.

Charles Jason! Where had the two Northerners heard that name? Then it
flashed upon them almost at the same instant. Charles Jason was the name
of the farmer who had warned Mr. Buckley about them. If he saw them both,
and in company with the dog, they would be under suspicion at once.

George drew nearer to Watson and whispered one word: "Danger!" He picked
up Waggie and put him in his pocket.

"We must be going," reiterated Watson, moving towards the door with
unusual celerity for a blind man who had found himself in an unfamiliar
apartment.

"Don't go yet," urged Mr. Peyton, seeking to detain the supposed
vagabonds; "I want Mr. Jason to hear some of these plantation songs. I'll
pay you well for your trouble, my boy--and you can take away all the food
you want."

"I'm sorry," began George, "but----"

As the last word was uttered Farmer Charles Jason was ushered into the
study. He was a chubby little man of fifty or fifty-five, with red hair,
red face and a body which suggested the figure of a plump sparrow--a
kindly man, no doubt, in the ordinary course of events, but the last
person on earth that the two fugitives wanted to see.

"Well, this _is_ a surprise," said the master of the house, very
cordially. "It's not often you favor us with a visit as far down the
highway as this."

"When a fellow has gout as much as I have nowadays," returned Jason, "he
doesn't get away from home a great deal. But somethin