ground. If she so much as lifted her head to reconnoitre, he would
plant a full blow upon it.

The children were at their wit's end. It was long past their
dinner-time, and they were getting hungry; their clothes were all
muddy, and Diddie's dress almost torn off of her; the blood was
trickling down from the gash in her forehead, and Chris was all
scratched and dirty, and her eyes smarted from the sand in them. So it
was a disconsolate little group that sat huddled together on top of
the lumber, while Old Billy stood guard over Dilsey, but with one eye
on the pile, ready to make a dash at anybody who should be foolish
enough to venture down.

"I tol' yer not to let 'im come," sobbed Dumps, "an' now I spec' we'll
hafter stay here all night, an' not have no supper nor nothin'."

"I didn't let 'im come," replied Diddie; "he come himself, an' ef you
hadn't made us run away fum Mammy, we wouldn't er happened to all this
trouble."

"I never made yer," retorted Dumps, "you come jes ez much ez anybody;
an' ef it hadn't er been fur you, Ole Billy would er stayed at home.
You're all time pettin' 'im an' feedin' 'im-- hateful old thing-- tell
he thinks he's got ter go ev'rywhere we go. You ought ter be 'shamed
er yourse'f. Ef I was you, I'd think myse'f too good ter be always er
'soshatin' with sheeps."

"You're mighty fond of 'im sometimes," said Diddie, "an' you was
mighty glad he was here jes now, to be Lord Burgoyne: he's jes doin'
this fur fun; an' ef Chris was my nigger, I'd make her git down an'