"We have a rifle, and a horseman's pistol that belongs to John.—They must call for drink, too, and turn my house, of a Sunday morning, into a tavern."
"They took the route towards Ninety-Six, you said, Mistress Ramsay?"
"Yes,—they went straight forward upon the road. But, look you, Mr. Horse Shoe, you're not thinking of going after them?"
"Isn't there an old field, about a mile from this, on that road?" inquired the sergeant, still intent upon his own thoughts.
"There is," replied the dame; "with the old school-house upon it."
"A lop-sided, rickety log-cabin in the middle of the field. Am I right, good woman?"
"Yes."
"And nobody lives in it? It has no door to it?"
"There ha'n't been anybody in it these seven years."
"I know the place very well," said the sergeant, thoughtfully; "there is woods just on this side of it."