a boy.  And, mind you, when a girl tries to catch anything in her lap she throws her knees apart; she don't clap them together, the way you did when you catched the lump of lead.  Why, I spotted you for a boy when you was threading the needle; and I contrived the other things just to make certain.  Now trot along to your uncle, Sarah Mary Williams George Elexander Peters, and if you get into trouble you send word to Mrs. Judith Loftus, which is me, and I'll do what I can to get you out of it.  Keep the river road all the way, and next time you tramp take shoes and socks with you. The river road's a rocky one, and your feet'll be in a condition when you get to Goshen, I reckon.” I went up the bank about fifty yards, and then I doubled on my tracks and slipped back to where my canoe was, a good piece below the house.  I jumped in, and was off in a hurry.  I went up-stream far enough to make the head of the island, and then started across.  I took off the sun-bonnet, for I didn't want no blinders on then.  When I was about the middle I heard the clock begin to strike, so I stops and listens; the sound come faint over the water but clear--eleven.  When I struck the head of the island I never waited to blow, though I was most winded, but I shoved right into the timber where my old camp used to be, and started a good fire there on a high and dry spot. Then I jumped in the canoe and dug out for our place, a mile and a half below, as hard as I could go.  I landed, and slopped through the timber and up the ridge and into the cavern.  There Jim laid, sound asleep on the ground.  I roused him out and says: “Git up and hump yourself, Jim!  There ain't a minute to lose.  They're after us!” Jim never asked no questions, he never said a word; but the way he worked for the next half an hour showed about how he was scared.  By that time everything we had in the world was on our raft, and she was ready to be shoved out from the willow cove where she was hid.  We put out the camp