The slaves immediately bent their steps toward the swamp, with the hope that the dogs, when put upon their scent would be unable to follow them through the water.
The slaves then took a straight course for the Baton Rouge and Bayou Sara road, about four miles distant.

Nearer and nearer the whimpering pack pressed on; their delusion begins to dispel.

All at once the truth flashes upon the minds of the fugitives like a glare of light,--'tis Tabor with his dogs! The scent becomes warmer and warmer, and what was at first an irregular cry now deepens into one ceaseless roar, as the relentless pack presses on after its human prey.
They at last reach the river, and in the negroes plunge, followed by the catch-dog.

Jerome is caught and is once more in the hands of his master, while the other poor fellow finds a watery grave.

They return, and the preacher sends his slave to jail..