"Thank God!" she whispered softly. "Now I can go with you."
I waited breathless, conscious of the trembling of her body against mine. Once again the bowed head was lifted, and this time a sparkle of unshed tears were visible in the shadowed eyes.
"You have not yet explained to me what we were to do? Your plans for tomorrow?"
"Because I scarcely have any," I replied, comprehending that now she claimed partnership in this adventure. "This has all occurred so suddenly, I have only acted upon impulse. No doubt those back at the Landing will endeavor to pursue us; they may have discovered already our means of escape and procured boats. My principal hope is that they may take it for granted that we have chosen the easier way and gone down stream. If so we shall gain so much more time to get beyond their reach. Anyway we can easily out-distance any rowboat, and Sam tells me there is nothing else to be had at the Landing."
"But why have you chosen the northern route? Surely you had a reason?"
"Certainly; it was to deceive them and get out of slave territory as quickly as possible. There are friends in this direction and none in the other. If we should endeavor to flee by way of the Ohio, we would be compelled to run a thousand-mile gauntlet. There are slaves in Illinois—it has never been declared a free state—but these are held almost exclusively in the more southern counties. North of the river the settlers are largely from New England, and the majority of them hate slavery and are ready to assist any runaway to freedom."
"But you have spoken of a man—Amos Shrunk—who is he?"
"You have certainly heard rumors, at least, that there are regular routes of escape from here to Canada?"
"Yes; it has been discussed at the house. I have never clearly understood, but I do know that slaves disappear and are never caught. I was told white men helped them."
"It is accomplished through organized effort by these men—Black Abolitionists, as they are called—haters of slavery. They are banded together in a secret society for this one purpose and have what they call stations scattered all along at a certain distance apart—a night's travel—from the Mississippi to the Canadian line, where the fugitives are hidden and fed. The runaways are passed from one station to the next under cover of darkness, and are seldom recaptured. A station keeper, I am told, is only permitted to know a few miles of the route, those he must cover—the system is perfect, and many are engaged in it who are never even suspected."