“I mean they shall,” said Cassy, coolly.  “Don’t you know that they must have their chase after us, at any rate?  The way of the thing is to be just this:—­We will steal out of the back door, and run down by the quarters.  Sambo or Quimbo will be sure to see us.  They will give chase, and we will get into the swamp; then, they can’t follow us any further till they go up and give the alarm, and turn out the dogs, and so on; and, while they are blundering round, and tumbling over each other, as they always do, you and I will slip along to the creek, that runs back of the house, and wade along in it, till we get opposite the back door.  That will put the dogs all at fault; for scent won’t lie in the water.  Every one will run out of the house to look after us, and then we’ll whip in at the back door, and up into the garret, where I’ve got a nice bed made up in one of the great boxes.  We must stay in that garret a good while, for, I tell you, he will raise heaven and earth after us.  He’ll muster some of those old overseers on the other plantations, and have a great hunt; and they’ll go over every inch of ground in that swamp.  He makes it his boast that nobody ever got away from him.  So let him hunt at his leisure.”

“Cassy, how well you have planned it!” said Emmeline.  “Who ever would have thought of it, but you?”

There was neither pleasure nor exultation in Cassy’s eyes,—­only a despairing firmness.

“Come,” she said, reaching her hand to Emmeline.

The two fugitives glided noiselessly from the house, and flitted, through the gathering shadows of evening, along by the quarters.  The crescent moon, set like a silver signet in the western sky, delayed a little the approach of night.  As Cassy expected, when quite near the verge of the swamps that encircled the plantation, they heard a voice calling to them to stop.  It was not Sambo, however, but Legree, who was pursuing them with violent execrations.  At the sound, the feebler spirit of Emmeline gave way; and, laying hold of Cassy’s arm, she said, “O, Cassy, I’m going to faint!”

“If you do, I’ll kill you!” said Cassy, drawing a small, glittering stiletto, and flashing it before the eyes of the girl.

The diversion accomplished the purpose.  Emmeline did not faint, and succeeded in plunging, with Cassy, into a part of the labyrinth of swamp, so deep and dark that it was perfectly hopeless for Legree to think of following them, without assistance.

“Well,” said he, chuckling brutally; “at any rate, they’ve got themselves into a trap now—­the baggage!  They’re safe enough.  They shall sweat for it!”

“Hulloa, there!  Sambo!  Quimbo!  All hands!” called Legree, coming to the quarters, when the men and women were just returning from work.  “There’s two runaways in the swamps.  I’ll give five dollars to any nigger as catches ’em.  Turn out the dogs!  Turn out Tiger, and Fury, and the rest!”

The sensation produced by this news was immediate.  Many of the men sprang forward, officiously, to offer their services, either from the hope of the reward, or from that cringing subserviency which is one of the most baleful effects of slavery.  Some ran one way, and some another.  Some were for getting flambeaux of pine-knots.  Some were uncoupling the dogs, whose hoarse, savage bay added not a little to the animation of the scene.