I'll lead on down the trail
and you can meet us at the ford--once across the creek we can decide
which way to travel; there must be four hours of darkness yet."
I picked up the trailing rein of my horse and slipped my arm through
it. Tim faded away in the gloom like a vanishing shadow. The young
woman next me, strapped securely to her saddle, made no movement,
exhibited no sign of interest; her head and body drooped, yet her hands
grasped the pommel as though she still retained some dim conception of
her situation. The face under her hood was bent forward and shaded and
her eyes, although they seemed open, gave no heed to my presence. I
touched her hands--thank God, they were moist and warm, but when I
spoke her name it brought no response. The other horse, ridden by the
mulatto girl, was forced in between us.
"Who are ye?" she questioned, wonderingly. "Ye just called her by
name, an' ye must know her. Whut ye goin' fer ter do with us, sah?"
I looked up toward her face, without distinguishing its outlines. I
felt this was no time to explain; that every moment lost was of value.
"Never mind now; I know who she is and that you are Elsie Clark. We
are your friends."
"No he ain't--not thet other man; he ain't no friend o' mine. Ah tell
ye. He's de one whut locked me up on de boat. Ah sure know'd his
voice; he done locked me up, an' Ah's a free nigger."
"Forget that, Elsie; he's helping you now to get away. You do just
what I tell you to and above all keep still.
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