ce close by, and
Andy rushed up, a look of blank astonishment plainly depicted upon his
face.

"Those negroes!" gasped Matt, struggling to rise from amid the
wreckage of the door. "Come on, don't wait, for they are three to two,
and they are just drunk enough to be as ugly as sin!"

He caught Andy by the arm, and before the latter could ask for a
further explanation, hurried him up the hill toward the wagon.

The negroes came out of the cottage and made after them, but only for
a short distance. Then they came to a sudden halt, and after a brief
consultation, hurried back to the cottage.

"What do you suppose they went back for--pistols and razors?"
questioned Andy, as they reached the turn-out, and he unhitched Billy
from the tree to which he had been tied.

"No, they are afraid we are going after the police," returned Matt,
springing up to the seat. "Every one of that crowd ought to be in jail
this minute!" he went on bitterly.

"What did they do to you?"

"Nearly robbed me!" And in a few brief words he related what had
happened to him.

"Well, do you want to go back to Easton and make a complaint?" asked
Andy, when he had finished.

"No, I am sick of having to do with the police, Andy. All I want is to
be let alone."

"That's my sentiment, Matt. We are out for business--and money--not
trouble."

Andy sprang up beside Matt, and it was soon decided by the partners to
continue on the road until another house should appear. They looked
back, but saw nothing more of the negroes, and then started off.

They passed through a bit of woods and down a long hill. Here they
found a neat farmhouse, where a pleasant enough woman was sitting upon
the doorstep, knitting socks.

"This is one road, but it is not the best road," replied the woman, in
reply to Andy's question regarding the way to Bethlehem. "But now you
are this far, you had better keep on, for it will be harder to turn
back."

"How far is it to the town?"

"Not over a mile and a half."

"And is the road fairly good from here?"

"Oh, yes; you can get along very well."

"Then we will continue," returned Andy. "By the way," he went on, "do
you know anything of the negroes that live in the cottage back a
ways?"

The woman's face lost its smile and she sighed.

"Yes, I know them only too well," she replied. "They have stolen so
many of our chickens and so much garden truck that my husband is going
to make a complaint against them. I wish they wo