"I will give you some supper at once," said Lily, as she hastened to the cabin.
"Lily!" called Dan. "You mustn't light the lantern, or make a fire."
"Why not?"
"The light would betray us. The slave-hunters will soon be out in their boat after this man."
"I will not, then."
While Lily was engaged below, Dan provided the runaway with a suit of his own clothes, which were not much too small for him, as he was a man of medium stature. He then conducted him to the standing room, for he was still too weak to walk without support. His supper was brought up, and he ate cold bacon and potatoes, bread and cheese, till the wondering Lily thought he would devour their whole stock of provisions, and till Dan kindly suggested that he would make himself sick if he ate any more.
While he was eating, Dan satisfied his curiosity in regard to the Isabel and the party on board of her. The runaway, whose name was Quin,—an abbreviation of Quincy,—listened with astonishment to the story of these elegant fugitives, who ran away in a yacht, and lived in a style worthy of a planter's mansion. No doubt he thought their experience was poetical and pretty, compared with his own, for his flight had been a death struggle with famine and flood, with man and brute.
In the mean time, the Isabel had run the dogs out of sight, and the waters in the direction from which she had just come were as still as death. No doubt the lake would be scoured in search of the fugitive; but for the present the party seemed to be secure from pursuit.
The boat was now approaching the northern shore of the lake, and it became necessary to tack. The wind held steady, but light; and Dan had but small hopes of being able to reach his destination before daylight. When every thing was made snug on the other tack, and there seemed to be no present danger ahead or astern, Cyd conducted Quin to one of the forward berths, and he turned in for the night. The runaway was evidently a very pious slave, and the young fugitives listened with reverend interest to the long prayer he offered up before he retired. It was a pæan of thanksgiving for his escape from the fangs of the slave-hunters. It was homely speech, but it was earnest and sincere, and those who listened were deeply impressed by its fervid simplicity.
Dan and Lily sat alone in the stern of the boat, for Cyd had been permitted to turn in with the runaway. They talked of freedom and the future for an hour, and then they were started by the sound of oars in the distance. The slave-hunters were on their track.