"I know every inch of the way about here.

Where is the negro waiting ?" "At the edge of the wood where the wagon road ends, beyond the slave quarters." "Yes, I know; it will be safer for us to go around the garden." She flitted forward, sure-footed, confident, and I followed as rapidly as possible through the darkness, barely keeping her dim figure in sight.

We skirted the rear fence, and then the blacker shadow of the wood loomed up somber before us.

Our feet stumbled over the ruts of a road and I seemed to vaguely recognize the spot as familiar.

Yes, away off yonder was the distant gleam of the river reflecting the stars.
This must be the very place where Pete and I had parted, but--where had the fellow gone?
I caught at her sleeve, but as she paused and turned about, could scarcely discern the outlines of her face in the gloom.
"Here is where he was directed to wait," I explained, hurriedly.
"Before I left he had turned his mule around under this very tree.