ed. They made a show
of going to bed, but they removed nothing but their boots, which they
slammed down on the floor with more noise than usual. They heard the
clock in the kitchen strike every hour, and when it struck twelve
they began to bestir themselves.

Bob's room being located on the first floor, in one of the wings of
the house, it was a matter of no difficulty for him and his companion
to leave it without arousing any of the family. All they had to do
was to open one of the windows, drop to the ground, pull on their
boots and be off; and this they did in about the same time that it
takes to tell it. They picked up their meal bags as they passed along
the fence, and in half an hour more were inside General Gordon's
fence, and moving cautiously along the lane that led toward the negro
quarters. A few steps brought them into the midst of the cabins,
which were as dark and silent as though they had been deserted. Some
of them were deserted, while others were occupied by the field hands.
The one in which the quails were confined stood on the outskirts of
the quarters, and Bob, who had taken particular pains to mark the
building, so that he would know it again, had no difficulty in
finding it. It was the only cabin that was provided with a covered
porch; and that same porch, or rather the posts which supported the
roof, came very handy to the young prowlers a few minutes later. They
walked around the building two or three times to make sure that there
was no one near it, and then Bob cautiously mounted the steps and
tried the door. The patter of little feet and the shrill notes of
alarm that sounded from the inside told him that he had aroused the
prisoners.

"Just listen to that," whispered Lester, greatly amazed. "The cabin
must be full of them."

"We'll soon know how many there are," answered Bob. "I'd give
something if I could see Don Gordon's face when he comes down here in
the morning."

As Bob spoke, he opened one of the meal bags and drew from it the
iron strap, which Godfrey Evans had used in prying open the door of
the smoke-house two nights before. Lester struck a match on his coat
sleeve, and when it blazed up, so that Bob could see how to work, he
placed the strap between the hasp and the door, and exerted all his
strength in the effort to draw out the staple with which it was
confined. But that staple was put there to stay. It was made by the
plantation blacksmith under Don's personal supervision,