My mind went back to a question I was once asked: Why did I always stand at some distance from my sisters? I now realized that I must have unconsciously had the premonition that we would some day be separated.
I blew out the candle and groped my way through the room to climb the ladder, and out through the trap door. A clam was being tom from its shell.
In the hall I was greeted with a rush of fresh air. Our departure was to be immediate, with no light of any kind. In a few seconds the woman led me outdoors.
XXXI
WESTWARD TREK
I was conscious of figures mysteriously scurrying back and forth to the house. My eyes began to focus better and I could see standing a man who led me to the back of a hay wagon, as if to introduce me to the scheme devised for my escape. He took my hand that I might feel him unlatch a little door, then he pushed my arm through the opening, indicating to me the empty space inside. He guided my hand to the bottom, to the bedding of hay and the blanket, then the arched roof to feel the hoops laid closely above. He directed my fingers to the cloth between the hoops, trying to let me know a covering had been thrown over to keep the hay from falling through. He made me touch the sides of the wagon and the arched top covered with hay. My hiding place was to be this coop, camouflaged as a load of hay. The ingenious plan revealed once more the risk these people were taking. I stood hesitating between fear and appreciation, when suddenly I found myself being lifted feet first through the tiny door. He handed me a bottle of water and without a word hooked the little door. Locked up in my little cage, I listened. Footsteps. It seemed there were many. I was anxious to catch every sound. I could hear nothing. The wagon bent forward as under a heavy weight. A stronger lurch and we were in motion.
Now I felt like a little calf being taken to the market. Yet I had reason to trust these people. Their careful preparation, their discreet silence could be only for my safety. I could not understand them, but I could not mistake their kindness. Perhaps someone would meet me at our destination. The serious, elaborate precautions indicated we were in great danger. This first part of the journey was no doubt the most critical. Through the rear of the wagon I could see a light. It was the sun coming up.
I presume we traveled for hours, the horse moving at a steady and brisk pace. I could tell when we were going up or down. The road was rough and I was badly shaken. These country roads were in poor shape and full of ruts. The dust sifted through the partitioned door and filled my eyes and nostrils. I felt I was suffocating. I could hardly breathe. My dry throat stiffened. I reached for the bottle, found and removed the cork, swallowed some water to wash the dust down, and sponged my face. My cramped coop was long enough to permit me to lie full length, and high enough so I could easily turn over. I could even draw up my knees, though I could not sit up. I rolled on my stomach and pressed my face against the little door to catch any current of air. I hoped they would soon stop, but dared not call out for fear that my voice would betray us. The driver seemed to know the road well, as the cart did not hesitate in making any of the turns. It had no springs and it jolted brutally and ceaselessly. My head was splitting. Would my wounds break open? My face was stiff and plastered with a mixture of dust and sweat. I was miserable. We travelled for a long time. Then light began to penetrate through the door and the wagon took a sudden turn. A plunge down and up again, then slowly along a level road with many bends. It stopped. I listened. Had we been halted for searching? Did someone jump down from the driver’s seat? Some one was coming around the wagon. It was one of the men, pushing the hay from the little door.
Suddenly the door flew open. In came a rush of fresh air. Feeling unsteady I tottered into the arms of the woman. I was glad she had come with us. She smiled, reflecting my pleasure at seeing her. She held me for a moment before I could walk around to loosen my tensed body.
It was most exciting to find myself free in the woods in the daylight. I learned there was no trouble here. We had stopped for a rest and to care for the horse. My eyes squinted and watered painfully, and I could distinguish very little. I bathed my eyes and the woman tied a cloth over them and left me sitting on a log. I lifted the cloth a tiny bit to accustom my eyes to the light. First I saw some green, then the forest, then a winding stream and myriads of bushes screening us from the road—a perfectly secluded spot. Later in the evening we resumed our journey, stopping several times for a rest. At daybreak the light started again to seep into my coop. The way the horse turned indicated we were not here by accident, but had actually stopped according to plan.
It was a beautiful morning; the dew still on the grass made the air superb. I could see some deep orange-colored flowers and some wild asters. I plucked some of those dry seeds from the plants and tossed them into the air, hoping they would fly through the woods in the direction where my family was resting. I knew so little of the cruel facts surrounding my dear ones. If I could only kneel beside their graves for a silent prayer. But even this was denied me. Water rushed down a little stream and humming insects flitted about No prison walls here.