with old Fred, and brought him down out of a tree by hurling
stones at him and then the faithful follower of our camp got a bit
of meat for his breakfast. We climbed the wall, as he ate, and
buried ourselves in the deep corn. The fragrant, silky tassels
brushed my face and the corn hissed at our intrusion, crossing its
green sabers in our path. Far in the field my companion heaped a
little of the soft earth for a pillow, spread the oil cloth between
rows and, as we lay down, drew the big shawl over us. Uncle Eb
was tired after the toil of that night and went asleep almost as soon
as he was down. Before I dropped off Fred came and licked my
face and stepped over me, his tail wagging for leave, and curled
upon the shawl at my feet. I could see no sky in that gloomy green
aisle of corn. This going to bed in the morning seemed a foolish
business to me that day and I lay a long time looking up at the
rustling canopy overhead. I remember listening to the waves that
came whispering out of the further field, nearer and nearer, until
they swept over us with a roaring swash of leaves, like that of
water flooding among rocks, as I have heard it often. A twinge of
homesick ness came to me and the snoring of Uncle Eb gave me
no comfort. I remember covering my head and crying softly as I
thought of those who had gone away and whom I was to meet in a
far country, called Heaven, whither we were going. I forgot my
sorrow, finally, in sleep. When I awoke it had grown dusk under
the corn. I felt for Uncle Eb and he was gone. Then I called to him.

'Hush, boy! lie low,' he whispered, bending over me, a sharp look
in his eye.' 'Fraid they're after us.'

He sat kneeling beside me, holding Fred by the collar and
listening. I could hear voices, the rustle of the corn and the tramp