"Well then, let me put this differently. Have you ever assisted any
slaves to run away from Missouri?"

"Well, Massa Knox, I reckon thet maybe I knew'd 'bout som' gittin'
a-way--'pears like I did, sah."

"And these escaped by way of the Illinois?"

His dumb, almost pathetic eyes met mine pleadingly, but some expression
of my face served to yield him courage.

"I--I reckon I--I don't know much 'bout all dis, Massa Knox," he
stammered doubtfully, his hands locking and unlocking nervously. "I--I
sure don'; an' fer de mattah o' dat, ther ain't nobody whut does, sah.
All I does know, fer sure, is dat if a nigger onct gets as fer as a
certain white man up de ribber, 'bout whar de mouth ob de Illinois is,
he's got a mighty good chance fer ter reach Canada. De next place whar
he's most likely ter stop is Beardstown, long wid som' sorter preacher
whut lives thar. An' thet's as fer as dey ever done tol' me, sah."

"About this first white man--the one near the mouth of the Illinois--do
you know his name?"

Pete rose to his feet, and crossed the room to where I stood, bending
down until his lips were close to my ear. His answer was spoken in a
thick whisper.

"Massa Knox, I never did 'spect to say dis ter no white man, but it
seems I just nat'larly got fer ter tell yer. I done heerd thet man say