"Not when old Massa was alive, nor yet when Massa McTavish was de boss; but some did run 'way when Massa Vetch come, and dey was not cotched."
"Well, then, why should not we do the same? Do you know where they hid?"
"In de swamp six mile 'way," he said.
"Yes, dat is it," he added, with a new eagerness in his tone, "we will run to de swamp. I never thought of Massa going where de niggers go. De dogs will not run on de swamp 'cos dey 'fraid of being drownded."
"Then how can we?" I asked, wondering.
"I know all about dat, Massa," he said. "De slaves what run way dey wear swamp shoes. I make some for massa and me, and den if we get dere befo' de dogs cotch us, we shall be safe."
I was getting desperately uneasy lest our whispered conversation, which had lengthened itself out, should be heard by my jailors. So I now brought it to an end by reminding Uncle Moses of the part he was to play on the morrow and giving him a message to Mistress Lucy.
"Tell her that with God's help I shall be free tomorrow, and beg her to shut herself in her room, and see no one. If mortal man can save her, she shall be saved."
And ere I went to sleep I prayed very fervently that all might be well with us and her.
When morning broke, I was conscious of a great agitation of mind, which I schooled myself to hide from the eyes of my guards, forcing myself to eat the breakfast for which I had no appetite. It would have eased me to pace up and down my room, but I forbore even from this, so that no restlessness might provoke their curiosity or suspicion. I sat for hours on my bed, awaiting the time for our attempt. The men brought me my midday meal: one of them made a brutal remark on my pallor; and then the door was shut, and they settled themselves to their usual siesta.