at night, and evade their
pursuers--or sometimes make a stand against them, on a hill, or at a
stream, throwing up their breastworks and holding them back with his
gun while their mother and "the children" escaped.

Then they would go out to the stable and, seated on a manger, talk it
all over with Uncle Saunders, the carriage-driver, who was guide,
philosopher, and friend to them. Uncle Saunders would sometimes be
consoling and sometimes almost disappointing.

"They wer'n't goin' refugeein' like a parcel of gypsies." (Uncle
Saunders' ideas of camping-out were not orthodox.) "But 'tain't no
danger: no Yankees could git to them. If they could, they'd 'a' been
long ago," reasoned Uncle Saunders. And if a few of "them pesky
raiders slipt through and got there, he'd like to see 'em git his
horses--he jist would. He knew a place he could hide 'em where they'd
never find 'em. Gab'rull could hardly find 'em when he comes to blow
his horn."

This, at least, was exciting, and Bob was all ears. He seized the old
driver by the arm.

"Where is it, Uncle Saunders? You'll tell _me_? Please. I won't tell
a soul--not even Ran. You know I won't if I promise."

But no; Uncle Saunders shut up like a clam--as tight as the high-barn
door.

"Well, if I guess, will you tell me? Give me three guesses: all right?
Is it the thick pines the other side of the creek where the old mine
used to be?"

Uncle Saunders shook his head.

"Well, is it the big marsh with the high willows, and the old
wagon-track?"

"You know, boy, I ain't goin' to teck my horses--my Black George and
Blifil into dat mash!"

"Well--? (strung out very long). Is it--? Let me see--I've got only
one more guess--haven't I?"

"I ain't give you nothin'," said Uncle Saunders, disappointingly. "You
jist guessin' around heah."

But Bob insisted that by letting him guess twice he had agreed to the
plan; and, in fact, it did look so.

"Well, go on, den," said Uncle Saunders at last.

Bob, after long thought, began again, guilefully watching Uncle
Saunders' oracular face to read his success or failure by his
expression. "Well--is it? No, it isn't that. Is it--the deep--? No;
I don't want to ask that, I know it is not that--Is it the great
woods?" (This with a jump.)

Old Saunders started to shake his head, and then looked around so
guilefully to see that nobody was in ear-shot, that Bob dropped his
voice to its most mysterious tone as he whisper