Free Underground to Canada by Barbara Smucker Page A

darkness.
    â€œThis cart is a movin’ trap,” Liza finally said to Julilly. The cart jogged faster, throwing them forward and backward with each bump in the road.
    Now that the day had come, noises surrounded them—horses’ hoofs, clattering carts, talking people. This nearness to danger pressed against the slaves. It was suffocating, like the dryness of the hay and the dryness in their throats.
    â€œI needs a long drink of water,” Adam muttered from the far end of the wagon.
    â€œYou just forget water,” Lester hissed crossly. “Hear those dogs barkin’. The slave catchers have them sniffin’ along our tracks. If we weren’t above the ground, joggin’ along in this old wagon, they’d be bitin’ at our heels right now.”
    Julilly listened. Far away there were high-pitched animal howls just as Lester said. Hunting dogs let loose on a man’s scent couldn’t be stopped any more than a bumble bee swarming over the sweetness of a blooming magnolia tree. Julilly knew this.
    Suddenly the cart slowed its speed. It swerved abruptly onto a rougher lane which they could tell was narrow because tree branches scraped against the wagon’s sides. The wheels splashed through shallow water, and then the wagon stopped.
    There was need for speed because the little driver jumped from his seat and ripped the canvas from the cart.
    â€œYou must all come out of the hay at once,” he said, “and hide inside the barn here.” His voice was urgent.
    Julilly stood up, brushing the hay from her hair and face. The freshness of the air and the brilliance of the sun were sudden joys she could not conceal.
    â€œLiza, oh look!” she cried.
    A swift moving stream sparkled beneath them. An old barn snuggled near by in a tangle of vines and gnarled tree limbs. It seemed to be waiting for them with an open door.
    â€œMy ol’ body just won’t untangle.” Liza sat twisted in the hay.
    Julilly bent down and lifted her friend from the wagon. It was no effort at all. She could carry Liza! Lester wouldn’t have to worry about anybody slowing them down again.
    â€œI seem to be growin’ strong as a horse,” Julilly laughed.
    â€œI’m shrunk up poorly as a dried cricket,” Liza scowled.
    They joined Lester and Adam beside the stream and the four of them drank greedily.
    The little Quaker paced nervously beside them.
    â€œYou must come inside the barn.” His voice remained gentle but firm. “I must be on my way soon. If we are tracked down here there is no way I can protect you.”
    They followed him inside the barn. It was sweet smelling and dry. Someone had covered the floor with new-mown hay. They had made it ready for them. There was a bundle of food near the door.
    The little driver drew all of them close to him beside an open window. He placed a round glass object on the flat window-sill.
    A black needle quivered inside it. He showed them how the needle always pointed north—the same as the North Star.
    â€œI am leaving this compass with you,” he explained and he chipped it slightly with his knife a little east of north. “You must not go straight north, it is too dangerous. Follow the needle east until you come to the Cumberland Mountains near the city of Knoxville. In the mountains there are caves for shelter and Indian paths to guide you.”
    The fugitives listened carefully. Julilly repeated the strange names over and over in her mind.
    The little man pushed his wide-brimmed hat back from the shadows of his face. For the first time Julilly noticed his bushy grey eyebrows and deep-set kindly eyes. He talked about mountain ranges they would cross and cities they would come to. He believed they were going to get to Canada. All four of them needed this faith in their venture. They drew closer to him, more hopeful than they had been since leaving Massa Ross. The kindly man looked into the faces of each of