_stick_ 'em in the stomach."

Mrs. Cary was coming down the steps now with a small package of food and
in the roadway Uncle Billy stood feeding and watering his master's
horse. In this bitterest of moments, when his own family had to be the
ones to hurry him along his way, there had come another and greater
danger--peril to those he loved.

"Tell me, dear," he said with his hand warm on his wife's soft shoulder.
"Is it true that Jeems Henry ran away this morning?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I knew the poor boy meant to leave us sooner or
later, so I made no effort to detain him."

"You did right," was the answer. "But which way did he go?"

"Up the river. To a Union camp on the Chickahominy."

"Chickahominy!" exclaimed Cary sharply, and bit his lips. "So that's the
lay of the land, eh! I'm mighty glad you told me this. But still--"
Cary's voice faded away under the weight of a sudden despair. What was
the use of fighting forever against such fearful odds? What could they
ever gain--save a little more honor--and at what dreadful cost?

"What makes you look so worried, Herbert?" his wife murmured, her nerves
on edge again.

"Yes, it's true," the man said with a groan. "They're gradually closing
in on us--surrounding Richmond."