“Oh! the old ‘cunjer’ darky the others are so afraid of?� asked Anne.
“Yes. And his son Cæsar is one of the deserters they’re looking for. Oh, Anne! suppose we should walk up—zip, bang!—face to face with a real deserter?�
“Nonsense! Everybody says those men went to New York or somewhere; they wouldn’t dare come back here, where people know them. Now, Pats-pet, next time Dick starts off, we’ll run ahead and come here and—oh, Patsy! that clump of chinquapin bushes will make a splucious hiding place.�
“If he sees us, we can just be looking for chinquapins. Anne, this was a splendid plan of yours.�
“It certainly was,� agreed Anne. “Oh! I do hope next time we’ll get there—wherever it is—and find out Dick’s secret.�
A few days later, they followed Dick again. He went toward Larkland, and they hid in the chinquapin bushes as they had planned. And there they stayed, weary hour after hour. No one passed except a negro man who went slinking down the road.
“Anne,� whispered Patsy, “that man looks like—I believe it is—Cæsar!�
“Any darky you saw would look like Cæsar to you, now he’s a deserter,� giggled Anne. “You don’t see anybody that looks like Dick, do you?�
“No; and don’t let’s wait any longer. We’re so crazy to find out about Dick we’re getting to be real slackers in Red Cross and gardening.�
They “went by� Larkland, and there they found Dick, busy stretching wire and driving staples, helping Cousin Mayo wire in a new pigeon cote.