intercept him before he reached home.

"Oh, Bud," said Foresta, greeting her husband, "Old Sid Fletcher is at
our house waiting for you with a drawn revolver."

A frown came over Bud's face. "The jealous knave," said he. "Ever since
we bought this farm he has had a dislike for me and I have been
expecting trouble from him."

"Yes, Bud; but we must stay out of trouble. A colored man hasn't a dog's
show in this part of the world."

Bud sat down on a stump and Foresta dropped at his feet.

"Let's stay away from home to-night. We have had trouble enough, Bud,"
said Foresta pleadingly.

Bud looked down on her tenderly, and said, "It is a shame for a
peaceful, industrious man to have a home and not be able to go to it."

Just then Sidney Fletcher was seen coming in their direction.

"Get behind a tree; nobody knows what will take place," said Bud to
Foresta. She obeyed and Bud now calmly awaited the approach of Sidney
Fletcher.

When Fletcher got in shooting distance he deliberately opened fire on
Bud. After the third shot Bud raised his gun to his shoulder and fired
and Fletcher fell backward a corpse. Bud and Foresta now looked at each
other aghast. They knew the penalty attached to the raising of a black
hand against a white man, even when that man unjustly sought the life of
the black.

Rushing to their humble little home, Bud and Foresta hastily gathered a
few things into a bundle, seized whatever food there was in the house,
armed themselves and went forth as fugitives, Foresta attiring herself
in man's clothing. By day and by night, through fields and forest, swamp
and morass, avoiding the sight of man the unhappy couple fled.

The news of the killing of Fletcher was not long in getting abroad and a
mob of several hundred whites was soon organized to give chase. The news
agencies acquainted the whole nation with the situation and day by day
the millions of America scanned with eagerness and with sad forebodings
the progress of the chase. Several Negroes who happened to be found in
the pathway of the mob that was sweeping the country were shot down or
hung according to the whim of the pursuers.

The two in turn relieved each other at watching, whenever the exhausted
condition of one or the other imperatively demanded sleep. It became
Foresta's time to sleep and the two took a position behind a huge fallen
tree, Foresta reclining her head upon Bud's lap. Soon she was asleep,
with Bud looking down in tender