revelations, and he entered the large closet under the concealed shaft
to the prison pen, where his groans and mental agony touched Hulda's
commiseration. She opened the trap, and crawled there too.

"Hush, Dave!" she whispered. "What makes you so miserable?"

"Missy, I'se killed a man. Dey made me do it. I'll burn in torment. Lord
save me!"

"Dave," said Hulda, "my poor father died for his offences. You can do no
more; but, like him, you can repent."

"Oh, missy, I's black. Rum an' fightin' has ruined me. Dar's no way to
do better. De law won't let me bear witness agin de people dat set me
on. How kin I repent unless I confess my sin? De law won't let me
confess."

"Confess your poor, wracked soul to me, Dave. The Lord will hear you,
though you dare not turn your face to him."

"Missy, once I was in de Lord's walk. My han's was clean, my face clar,
my stummick unburnt by liquor. I stood in no man's way; at de church
dey put me fo'ward. My soul was happy. One day I licked a man bigger dan
me. It made me proud an' sassy. I backslid, an' wan't no good to be
hired out to steady people; so de taverns got me, an' den de kidnappers
used me, an' now de blood of Cain an' Abel is on my forehead forever."

Hulda knelt by the murderer, and prayed with all her heart; not the
self-conscious, special pleading of the prayer across the hall, but the
humble prayer of the penitent on Calvary: "Lord, we, of this felon den,
ask to be with thee in Paradise."

* * * * *

The whole of the next day was spent in preparations for flight by Patty
and her son-in-law.

A boat of sufficient size, and crew to man it, had to be procured down
the river, and this necessitated two journeys, one of Patty, to Cannon's
Ferry, another by Joe, to Vienna and Twiford's wharf.

During their absence Cy James was equally intent on something, and Hulda
saw him in the ploughed field near the old Delaware cottage, under the
swooping buzzards, directing the farmer where to guide his plough, and
it seemed, in a little while, that one of the horses had fallen into a
pit there.

Later on Hulda observed Cy James, with a spade, digging at various
places near Patty Cannon's former cottage.

"All are at work for themselves," Hulda thought, "except Levin and me.
How often have I seen Aunt Patty slip to secret places in the night, or
by early dawn, when she looked every window over to see if she was
watched. Her beehives were her