the cellar, in which not a prisoner
remained,--Stackridge and his companions filed out noiselessly through
Jim's closed and silent shop, upon the other street, and took their way
swiftly through the town.

Having appointed a place of meeting with his friends, Penn left them,
and hastened alone to Mr. Villars's house. The lights had long been out.
But the sisters were awake; Virginia had not even gone to bed. She was
sitting by her window, gazing out on the hushed, gloomy, breathless
summer night,--waiting, waiting, she scarce knew for what,--when she was
aware of a figure approaching, and knew Penn's light, quick tap at the
door.

She ran down to admit him. His story was quickly told. Toby was roused
up; blankets were rolled together, and all the available provisions that
could be carried were thrust into baskets.

"How shall we get news to you? You will want to hear from your father."
Penn hastily thought of a plan. "Send Toby to the round rock,--he knows
where it is,--on the side of the mountain. Between nine and ten o'clock
to-morrow night. I will try to communicate with him there." And Penn,
bidding the young girl be of good cheer, departed as suddenly as he had
arrived.

The old negro accompanied him, assisting to carry the burdens. They
found Stackridge's horse where he had been fastened. Penn made Toby
mount, take a basket in each hand, and hold the blankets before him on
the neck of the horse; then, seizing the bridle, and running by his
side, he trotted the beast away across the field in a manner that shook
the old negro up in lively style.

"O, Massa Penn! I can't stan' dis yere! I's gwine all to pieces! I shall
drap some o' dese yer tings, shore!"

"You must stand it! hold on to them!" said Penn. "And now keep still,
for we are near the road."

The party had halted at the rendezvous. Mr. Villars, quite exhausted by
his unusual exertions, was seated on the ground when Penn came up with
Toby and the horse. Toby dismounted; the old minister mounted in his
place, and the negro was sent back.

All this passed swiftly and silently; the fugitives were once more on
the march, Penn walking by the old man's side. Scarce a word was spoken;
the tramp of feet and the sound of the horse's hoofs alone broke the
silence of the night. Suddenly a voice hailed them:--

"Who goes there?"

And they discovered some horsemen drawn up before them beside the road.
It was the night-patrol.

"Friends," answered Stackridg