“You are safe here, Josiah, and here is your money.”

He took it without a word, except, “I reckon, Master John, you know I’m thankful.  Was there any one missing me?”

“No, no one.”

“I’ll get away to-night.  I’ll go down through Lonesome Man’s Swamp and take my old bateau and run down the river.  You might look after my muskrat traps.  I was meaning to make a purse for the little missy.  Now do you just go away, and may the Lord bless you.  I guess we won’t ever meet no more.  You’ll be mighty careful, Master John?”

“But you’ll write, Josiah.”

“I wouldn’t dare to write—­I’d be takin’ risks.  Think I’m safe here?  Oh, Lord!”

“No one knows where you are—­you’ll go to-night?”

“Yes, after dark.”  He seemed more at ease as he said, “It was Peter Lamb set Mr. Grey on me.  He must have seen me after that.  I told you it was Peter.”

“Yes,”—­and then with the hopefulness of youth—­“but you will come back, I am sure.”

“No, sir—­never no more—­and the captain and Miss Leila—­it’s awful—­where can I go?”

John could not help him further.  “God bless you, Master John.”  They parted at length at the door of the cabin which had seen no other parting as sad.

The black lay down again.  Now and then he swept his sleeve across tearful eyes.  Then he stowed his money under his shirt in a linen bag hung to his neck, keeping out a few dollars, and at last fell sound asleep exhausted by emotion,

Josiah’s customers were few in number.  Westways was too poor to be able to afford a barber more than once a week, and then it was always in mid-morning when work ceased for an hour.  Sometimes the Squire on his way to the mills came to town early, but as a rule Josiah went to Grey Pine and shaved him while they talked about colts and their training.  As he was rarely needed in the afternoon, Josiah often closed his shop about two o’clock and went a-fishing or set traps on the river bank.  His absence on this Monday afternoon gave rise, therefore, to no surprise, but when his little shop remained closed on Tuesday, his neighbours began to wonder.  Peter Lamb wandering by rather more drunken than on Monday, stood a while looking at the shut door, then went on his devious way, thinking of the fierce eyes and the curse.  Next came Swallow for his daily shave.  He knocked at the door and tried to enter.  It was locked.  He heard no answer to his louder knock.  He at once suspected that his prey had escaped him, and that the large fee he had counted on was to say the least doubtful.  But who could have warned the black?  Had Mr. Grey been imprudent?  Lamb had been the person who had led Grey, as Swallow knew from that gentleman, to suspect Josiah as a runaway; but now as he saw Peter reeling up the street, he was aware that he was in no state to be questioned.  He went away disappointed and found that no one he met knew whither Josiah had gone.