"Six or seben miles, Massah Jack."
"Then we have a good, stiff walk before us."
"Do yo' t'ink yo' can walk dat far, Massah Jack, in dis awful storm?"
"I can, unless the rain sets in harder. I am anxious to get back, you know."
"I don't blame yo' fo' dat, Massah Jack. De folks will be mighty glad to see yo', too," answered Old Ben.
On they went through the darkness, Old Ben following the trail with the keenness of a sleuth-hound. But it was far from a pleasant journey, as Jack soon discovered, as he stumbled along over dirt and rocks and through the dripping bushes. He was soaked to the skin, and the rawness of the air caused him to shiver.
The downpour was now extra heavy, and they had to come to a halt under some trees, in order to get their breath again. The wind was blowing strongly and it was directly in their faces.
"How many miles have we made, Ben?" asked Jack.
"Not more dan t'ree, Massah Jack?"
"Then we have nearly four still to cover."