The Pursuit

Horse! horse! ... and chase!--MARNION.

Farmer Nye and Robert Munson remained standing with their heads
uncovered, looking after the fugitives until the sound of their horses'
hoofs died away in the distance, and then they turned towards each other
and impulsively grasped each the other's hand, and shook hands as
comrades.

Next Farmer Nye turned to the negroes who were squatting about the
stable-yard, wondering, no doubt, at all they had seen and heard; and he
told them to disperse to their quarters, and keep still tongues in their
heads, if they wished to keep their heads on their shoulders.

"And now we'll go back to the house and get a drop of home-brewed, and
go to bed," said the farmer, starting off at a brisk trot, and beckoning
his young companion to follow him.

"I mean to manage so as Old Purley shall be made to believe as the
prisoner escaped through his door," said Munson, as he came up.

"That'll be bully!" said the farmer.

They went back to the house, consulted the tall old-fashioned clock in
the corner of the hall, found it was just eleven, and they took their
drop of "home-brewed," and went to rest.

Robert Munson, with design, threw himself down upon the mattress outside
the carefully locked door of the chamber, from which he had helped his
prisoners to escape. And being very much fatigued, he fell asleep, and
slept long and late.