The boy was beginning to think that life in this place was not so very cheerless after all, and was becoming more than ever doubtful of the expediency of running away, when an incident took place that restored all his previous resolves. Cynthia had been called in by her mother to sew on her hated patchwork, and Arthur was sitting alone, when suddenly a great, squirming, half-dead snake was dropped on him from above. With a cry of horror the startled boy sprang up just in time to see his Cousin Dick’s grinning face, and hear him say, “That’s only part of what you’ll get before long, you little sneak, you.”
That night as he slept with his precious book clasped tightly in his arms, he was again awakened by a hand laid lightly on his forehead. As he sprang to a sitting posture, Uncle Phin bent lovingly over him, saying:
“Sh-h-h, Honey! Ebberyting’s ready, an it’s high time fer us to be gittin away frum hyar.”
CHAPTER IX.
A HURRIED FLIGHT.
There was no need for Arthur to ask any questions, when he was roused in the middle of the second night after Uncle Phin’s departure. He realized at once what was required of him, and the heaviness of sleep instantly vanished, leaving him keenly wide awake. Stepping softly from his bed, he quickly dressed, while the old negro gathered together everything belonging to his “lil Marse,” and placed the things in a corn-sack that he had brought for that purpose.
“Is dat yo book, Honey?” he whispered, noticing the volume of fairy tales lying on the bed.
“Yes, that is my own precious book that the beautiful lady gave me; but don’t put it in the bag, Uncle Phin, I want to carry it myself.”
Then the thoughtful little fellow, since he could not bid Cynthia good-bye, and feared she might feel hurt if he went away without a word, begged his companion to wait, just a minute, while he wrote her a note. He wrote it by the bright moonlight, on a bit of brown paper, with the stump of a lead-pencil, so that it was not a very elegant production, but it answered its purpose, and was tenderly cherished for many a day by the little girl who received it the next morning. In it, in a big, scrawling hand, was written:
“Dear Cynthia: I have been so much trouble here, specially to Aunt Nancy and Dick, that I am going away with uncle Fin, to find another home. I love you dearly, and sometime I hope I shall come back and see you. Good-bye, from
“Your loving cousin,