The ferry, a flat boat propelled by long oars, was landing when he came into view, and he saw his father's wagon driven on.

He sped down the hill, pushed through the crowd of soldiers standing about, and hurried forward on the boat to let the old man know he had come.

But on the seat was another than his father.

He recognised the man, and called to him.
"What are you doing there, Brother Keaton?
Where's my father ?" The man had shrunk back under the wagon-cover, having seemingly been frightened by the soldiers.
"I've taken your father's place, Brother Rae." "Did he cross with Brother Wright ?" "Yes--he--" The man hesitated.

Then came an interruption from the shore.
"Come, clear the gangway there so we can load! Here are some more of the damned rats we've hunted out of their holes!" The speaker made a half-playful lunge with his bayonet at a gaunt, yellow-faced spectre of a man who staggered on to the boat with a child in his arms wrapped in a tattered blue quilt.