There was confirmation of the suspicion my jailors’ talk had bred in me.  I lost no time now in imparting my plan to the negro.  He gave a low groan when I had finished.

“What’s the matter?” I said.  “Are you afraid?”

“Yes, Massa, I am ’fraid.  S’pose we get away, dere be dogs at the big house, and dey will let ’em loose on us and follow on horseback.  We shall be cotched, and dat will be de last of po’ Uncle Moses.”

This was a staggering blow, and I own I felt for the moment an utter despair.  In the depths of the forest land, could we but gain it, we might elude the search of men, but not the unerring scent of bloodhounds.

“Are there horses we could make off with?” I said at length.

“No, Massa; all de horses but two at de big house be gwine to take sugar to de coast tomorrow, and dose two are kept for Missy and Massa Vetch.”

This had an element of comfort in it, for if we could not find horses for ourselves, neither could our pursuers, save these two, which might not be at hand, and I did not doubt we could outstrip any man on foot.  I pointed this out to the negro, and when he replied that we had still to reckon with the dogs, I tried to hearten him by showing that some time must elapse before the beasts could be fetched from their kennel and put upon the scent.  And then I asked him whether slaves had never run away from the estate without being caught.

“Not when old Massa was alive, nor yet when Massa McTavish was de boss; but some did run ’way when Massa Vetch come, and dey was not cotched.”

“Well, then, why should not we do the same?  Do you know where they hid?”

“In de swamp six mile ’way,” he said.

“Yes, dat is it,” he added, with a new eagerness in his tone, “we will run to de swamp.  I never thought of Massa going where de niggers go.  De dogs will not run on de swamp ’cos dey ’fraid of being drownded.”

“Then how can we?” I asked, wondering.

“I know all about dat, Massa,” he said.  “De slaves what run way dey wear swamp shoes.  I make some for massa and me, and den if we get dere befo’ de dogs cotch us, we shall be safe.”

I was getting desperately uneasy lest our whispered conversation, which had lengthened itself out, should be heard by my jailors.  So I now brought it to an end by reminding Uncle Moses of the part he was to play on the morrow and giving him a message to Mistress Lucy.

“Tell her that with God’s help I shall be free tomorrow, and beg her to shut herself in her room, and see no one.  If mortal man can save her, she shall be saved.”

And ere I went to sleep I prayed very fervently that all might be well with us and her.

When morning broke, I was conscious of a great agitation of mind, which I schooled myself to hide from the eyes of my guards, forcing myself to eat the breakfast for which I had no appetite.  It would have eased me to pace up and down my room, but I forbore even from this, so that no restlessness might provoke their curiosity or suspicion.  I sat for hours on my bed, awaiting the time for our attempt.  The men brought me my midday meal:  one of them made a brutal remark on my pallor; and then the door was shut, and they settled themselves to their usual siesta.