Harry’s voice trembled with emotion when he answered: 

“I am sure that none of her friends knew how she was being treated.”

“I suppose that she was hoping an’ praying, suh, that he would change.”

“I think that one of us will take you to Peasley’s to-morrow night,” said Harry.  “Meanwhile I hope you get a good rest.”

With that he left them, filled the mouth of the cave with hay and went into the house.  There he told his good friends of what he had heard.

“I shall go down to St. Louis,” he said.  “I read in the paper that there was a boat Monday.”

“The first thing to do is to go to bed,” said Sarah.  “There’s not much left of the night.”

They went to bed, but the young man could not sleep.  Bim had possession of his heart again.  In a kind of half sleep he got the notion that she was sitting by his bedside and trying to comfort him.  Then he thought that he heard her singing in the sweet voice of old: 

  “Come sit yourself down
   With me on the ground
   On this bank where the primroses grow. 
   We will hear the fond tale
   Of the sweet nightingale,
   As she sings in the valleys below,
   As she sings in the valleys below.”

He roused himself and thought that he saw her form receding in the darkness.

Fortunately, the spring’s work was finished and there was not much to be done next day.  Samson went to “Colonel” Lukins’ cabin and arranged with him and his wife to come and stay with Sarah and made other preparations for the journey to the north.  Soon after nightfall they put their guests on a small load of hay, so that they could quickly cover themselves if necessary, and set out for Peasley’s farm.  As they rode along Samson had a frank talk with Harry.

“I think you ought to get over being in love with Bim,” he said.

“I’ve told myself that a dozen times, but it don’t do any good,” said the boy.

“She’s another man’s wife and you have no right to love her.”

“She’s another man’s slave, and I can’t stand the thought of it,” Harry answered.  “If she was happy I could mind my business and get over thinking of her, by and by, maybe, but now she needs a friend, if she ever did, and I intend to do what I can for her.”

“Of course, we’ll all do what we can for her,” said Samson.  “But you must get over being in love with a married woman.”

“If a man’s sister were in such trouble, I think he’d have the right to help her, and she’s more than a sister to me.”

“I’ll stand with you on the sister platform,” said Samson.

In the middle of the night they stopped by a stream of water to feed the horses and take a bite of luncheon.  The roads were heavy from recent rains and daylight came before they could make their destination.  At sunrise they stopped to give their horses a moment to rest.  In the distance they could see Brimstead’s house and the harrowed fields around it.  The women were lying covered by the hay; the man was sitting up and looking back down the road.