“Have you come very far? Has it been hard?” she asked in subdued tones. “Yes, miss, it’s seemed a long way.” The woman used good English, and her gentle manner showed that she must have been well trained. “But I reckon it wasn’t really so far. It’s just a week ago to-night that I took out. We’ve had to hide in the daytime and walk at night, mostly. Once a man met us and hid us in a wagon under some hay and took us right far. Sometimes I had to carry both the children and then I couldn’t come so fast. Andy was right good for such a little fellow. He’d run most all the time. I told him we were going to see his pappy and he’s been expecting to find him every time we stop.” “Your husband has got away, then? Is he in Canada?” “Yes, miss. He took out last June.” “Did they follow you? Were you afraid of being caught and taken back?” “Eleven of us left at the same time, from three plantations. We kept together the first night, and then we divided. I wanted to come the same way my husband had. The man who came down there and told us how to go and what to do said it would be safer for us to divide, and he said that if I thought I could make the trip alone it would be better for me, because they wouldn’t think I’d leave the others. He told me not to be afraid, so I wasn’t.” The quick tears sprang to Rhoda’s eyes at thought of this childlike trust and simple steadfastness. “Do you know who the man was?” she asked. “No, miss, I don’t know his name. He was a young man and so kind looking you knew right away that you could trust him. He came out from Lexington about two weeks ago and we all thought he was just after birds. He wanted to get bird skins and he paid some of the children who could catch birds in snares, so the skins would be whole. But after a day or two word was whispered round that he wanted to see the slaves who would like to be free.” Rhoda nodded. “Yes, I know him! He was here only a month ago, getting names of people who would help the runaway slaves and what they would do for them. He was at our house and went right on down into Kentucky to let the slaves know how they can escape from slavery. His name is Alexander Wilson.” “Yes, miss. I didn’t hear his name. I’d been powerful anxious to get away ever since my husband took out, so I went to the meeting, in our preacher’s house. The man had seen Andrew, my husband, in Canada, and he had sent me some money and word to follow him as soon as I could. Oh, miss, he’s free now, and he’s earning money, his own money, and making a home for us!” For the first time in the woman’s simple narrative the note of deep feeling broke through her tone and manner of settled, mournful resignation. The childlike wonder in her voice as she uttered her last sentence touched her listener deeply.