“Chance to escape?”
“Yes, Osceola. This hopeless slavery is worth any risk.”
“I believe you are right—but think! Even if you can escape the guards, you will certainly die in the swamps.”
“Not if you will come with me?”
“But even I, who know the ways of swamps, can’t guide you to safety without a canoe—and there is absolutely no chance of securing one.”
“I’ve got the germ of an idea,” said Bill, “It still has to be worked out in detail. Also, it will, of course, depend on whether I am put to work on a dredge, or underground.”
“You’ll work on a dredge,” affirmed Osceola. “We all do in this prison house.”
“Good! And I am going to put the plan to test just as soon as I can. Tomorrow, if the opportunity offers. Will you join me?” Bill’s tone was deadly earnest.
“Any death is better than this living one,” replied Osceola in a voice that matched the former’s.
“Then—it’s a go?”