"Sure, as far as that goes. But ... but must you go?"
"I must! ... Listen! You are to keep along the road until it enters the woods. It dips into a hollow there and fords a small stream. You are to turn to the left there—to the left, remember, and ascend the stream, walking in the water. It has a firm sandy bottom, at least for a certain distance. As soon as you are out of sight of the road, better stop on the bank until it is light, so you won't mire yourself or step in a hole."
He put out his hand to her. "When will I see you again?"
"You are not listening! ... You must keep on up the stream until you come to a clearing on the right-hand side. Up at the top of the rise there used to be a negro cabin. But it burned down. Only the chimney is standing. Don't pitch your tent in the clearing. It would be too conspicuous. Conceal it in the brush across the stream. I can reach you there direct from the fields. If I can't find you I'll whistle like a whip-poor-will. And you answer."
"When will you come?"
"To-morrow night. Unless I am prevented."
"Oh! ... if you are prevented...!"
Pen laughed shakily. "Not much danger! They'll have to be very clever to keep me in!"
He clung to her hand. "Well ... I'm not going to complain," he muttered.
Pen clasped his hand in both of hers. "Oh, I know how hard it is! How hard!" she cried. "Try to be patient. It may not be for long!"