They hailed with joy the announcement that they were to go to Flower de Hundred.
One morning in early June three horses were saddled, and Robert and Rebecca, accompanied by a trusty negro named Sam, started on their journey.

Most of the travel, especially to a country as far away as Flower de Hundred, was on horseback.
"I am so glad we are going," said Rebecca, as they galloped along the road through the woods.

"Mother was good to let us go." "I am s'prised at the missus," the negro said, shaking his head.
"Sumfin am gwine to happen now fur sure, sumfin am gwine to happen." "Why ?" asked Robert.
"Misse neber gwine to dem people less dar be sumfin for a-gwine ter happen." Little Rebecca cast furtive glances about in the dark old wood through which they were riding and with a shudder asked: "Is there any danger of Indians ?" So often had the savages drenched the earth with blood, that the child had a dread of them.
"Dun know, Misse Rebecca.

Sam gwine ter fight if Indians come." "But they must not come." "No Injun hurt Misse.

Sam not let um." Robert, young as he was, had little faith in the negro's boasts as a protector, for he knew that Sam was a coward and would fly at the first intimation of danger.