The man studied their tattered uniforms. “Well, I guess not,” he said. “Wish we could help you, but all the colored folks hereabouts mus’ be inside by sundown.”
Red said, “You can help us most by forgetting you saw us. Have we crossed into North Carolina yet?”
“No, Massa. Old North State is one mile more.” The man looked down at his bare feet. “I thought to go north to fight for Massa Linkum, but I got no shoes.”
The girl turned to her man. “Don’t go away,” she pleaded softly.
Red’s face was serious. “You better not try it without any shoes.” He looked into the shadows. “Will we be safe if we travel this road?”
The young man turned and motioned with his arm. “Go lef’ when you come to the fork. Hide in the trees if you hear a soun’.”
As the white men started down the road the girl called after them, “God keep you safe.”
On the morning of the third day after they had crossed into North Carolina they slept at the bottom of a broad cleft in a massive rock. At the top of the rock the rift was narrow so that the crack formed a sheltered cave. The floor of the cave was dry and the men were tired. They slept much later than usual.
Tim was awakened by a violent cramp. They had eaten the last of their food two days before. He lay on his back and stared at the walls of rock. It was bitter cold. If they hoped to go on they would have to find food by nightfall.