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One evening the ladies of Lee Villa sat watching the resplendent sunset from the front piazza, when a ragged, barefoot urchin came up the road turning somersaults with surprising agility. He righted himself up at the gate, then entered and sidled rather doubtfully toward the group.

“Here’s somethin’ fur Miss Lee. Be you her?”

“Yes,” said Netta, receiving a dirty note from the boy’s dusty fingers. “Where did you get this?”

“He gave it to me–he did,” nodding his head down the road, “an’ he gimme this, too!” he added triumphantly, holding up a shining coin, as he darted away again at his evolutions.

Netta deciphered the following lines from Richard:

“We are encamped in Dry Thicket with the horses, all safe thus far. Do not attempt to come; you could not find us. Keep a brave heart. We will soon entrap the rascals. (Messenger best I can find).

“Faithfully,

“R.T.”

About nine o’clock one morning a party of ten men, headed by the notorious Baywater, rode up the single street of Villula, sending terror to the hearts of unprotected women. Not apprehending an attack in daytime, the two young men were on duty elsewhere, and the negroes were in the cotton fields.

Passing through the town amid a great dust and clatter, they drew rein at the villa. The ladies came to the door in response to the captain’s imperious halloo.

“We’ve come to find out where the Lester horses are, madam–and what’s more,” he added with a brutal oath, “we intend to know!”

“I have no information to give you,” calmly returned Mrs. Lee.

“Perhaps you won’t tell us where that box of diamonds is, either,” he sneered.

To this there was no reply. The three girls were pallid from apprehension of the next move. Apparently a proposition was made. The leader shook his head. After a brief parley he dismounted, and with five of his men, strode across the lawn to the negro quarters. An old negress sat at the door, smoking her pipe, and knitting a coarse yarn sock. A bright mulatto boy was crossing the back yard with a water bucket.

In vain the outlaws sought to extract from the old woman the whereabouts of her master with the horses and jewels. She was in reality as ignorant as they.

“Come now, Auntie,” said the captain in wheedling tones, “tell us and we will make you free. You won’t have to work any more.”

“Oh, go ‘long!” was her contemptuous rejoinder, “I’se free as I want to be.”

“Why, you old fool!” he roughly retorted, “you don’t know what freedom means. You shall wear a silk dress and ride in a carriage and have a gold chain.”

“I speaks gold chain!” echoed the woman tossing her grey head, “you po’ white trash can’t come it ober dis chile wid yer crick-cracks. Jes you go ‘long. I’se got my bacon and greens, an’ a good cotton coat. Yer can’t fool dis chile wid yer fine talk!”

“Curse the old hag! Let’s try the boy. You! Sirrah! Come here.”

With ashen cheeks the boy followed them into an outhouse, while the Captain flourished a stout whip.

“Oh! mother,” cried Netta, “don’t let them whip him! He never was whipped in his life!”

Mrs. Lee advanced a few paces from the back gallery whence they had been watching the proceedings and called, “Charlie!”

The boy sprang towards his mistress, his captors not venturing to be too rash at the outset.

“I want this boy for a moment,” explained the lady. In sullen silence they waited.

“Going to buy him up to secrecy,” derided the Captain, “but I guess we’ll work it out of him when he comes back. We’ve got him, sure, and can afford to wait.”

But Charlie did not come back. Thrusting a bill into his hand his mistress said: “Fly for your life, to Columbus and tell Col. Scale that we must have protection. There is no train. Take the old country road and lose no time!”