Fully alive to the importance of what he had learned, Enoch was now prepared to take greater risks than when it was only a question of saving his own life.
The personal danger appeared to have been lessened, and the one idea in his mind was to make known without unnecessary delay that which he had learned.
No sound broke the stillness of the night as the boy clambered up from his damp hiding-place until he could peer out through the hatchway.
The darkness shrouded everything, and as if the elements were in sympathy with his purpose, heavy clouds obscured even the light of the stars.
"I couldn't have a better chance, and if I don't get past the guards which have been set it will be because I am stupid," Enoch thought as he drew himself up to the combing of the hatchway and dropped noiselessly down on the sand beneath.
Here he stood motionless an instant to listen.
In the distance could be heard the noises of the city, but close at hand appeared to be no living thing save himself.
Following up the bank of the river to the creek, and then into Third Street, he went cautiously, ready at any moment to break into a run, or retreat as should be necessary.
To venture upon the street did not seem prudent, therefore he swam the upper end of the creek, and made his way by a zigzag course, avoiding the thoroughfares to traverse gardens and lawns, but all the while continuing on in as nearly a direct course as was consistent with safety toward the farmhouse where he believed Greene would be found.
More than once he heard the tramp of the patrol, and at such times he doubled here and there, moving cautiously as an Indian, and on the alert for the first sounds which should proclaim he was discovered.