“Where yer boun?” shouted Maybee, jumping to his feet. There was a sound of parleying in subdued voices at Maybee’s question. Then came the answer, “Nebraska.”
“You’re right for that. This is the Jim Lane route. Keep the main road and you’ll not miss it,” again answered Steward. A moment passed. Then came the inquiry: “Can you put us up till mornin?”
“Cayn’t do it,” spoke up Maybee again. “Our beds are full. How many of you?”
“Two.”
“Sorry, but you’ll have to keep on. Can’t do anything for you.”
“Say, have you seen anything of a nigger man an’ gal an’ a white man a-pilotin’ ’em?”
“Nary one, mister,” again spoke up Maybee.
“Reckon we’ll push on then.”
The sound of horses’ feet died in the distance.
After that there was no more sleep in the cabin, though the remainder of the night passed in quiet.