Although they were not going to Baltimore and intended to land east of North Point, in the direction they had seen the Philadelphia steamers go, these passes might be useful in the lower part of the bay, while steering toward Baltimore. These were not, however, to be shown until all other answers had failed to satisfy the inquirer. The conspirators were fully alive to the importance of being calm and self-possessed when accosted, if accosted they should be; and they more than once rehearsed to each other how they would behave under fire. With everything figured out, the days and nights of waiting were long and tedious. Every move, every word, every look had to be carefully guarded. Uneasiness was in the air. Slaveholders were constantly looking out for the first signs of rebellion against the injustice and wrong which they were perpetrating every hour of the day. And their eyes were skilled and practiced. In many cases they were able to read, with great accuracy, the state of mind and heart of the slave through his sable face. Any mood out of the common way gave grounds for suspicion and questioning. Yet, with the plowing over, with spring in the air and an Easter holiday drawing near, what more natural than that the slaves should sing down in their quarters--after the day’s work was over? “Oh Canaan, sweet Canaan, Ah’m boun’ fo’ the lan’ o’ Canaan.” They sang, and their voices were sweet. William Freeland, sitting on the veranda, took his pipe from between his teeth and smiled at his mother. “I always say there’s nothing like darkies singing--nothing. Some of our folks have really beautiful voices. Listen to that!” The master of Freelands spoke with real pride. Inside the house old Caleb fussed with the curtains. He felt a trembling inside of him. That dear, young voice out there in the dusk: “Ah thought Ah heared them say There was lions in the way I don’ expect to stay Much longah here.” The buoyant refrain--all the voices singing triumphantly: “Oh Canaan, sweet Canaan, Not much longah here!” “Crazy fools!” whispered Caleb. “Singin’ lak dat!” _Singing for all the world to know!_ He wanted to warn them. He shook his head. Caleb had been young once, too. And he had dreamed of freedom. He was old now. He would die a slave. He shuffled back to the pantry. Shut in there he could no longer hear the singing. Two days before the appointed time Sandy withdrew. He could not go off and leave his wife. They pleaded with him. “You young ones go! You make good life. I stay now!” John was the most visibly shaken. John whose little Susan had wept several times of late because of his moody silences and bad temper. After saying that nothing could change his mind or intention he walked away stiffly. Then Sandy confessed that he had had a dream, a bad dream.