"Well, now, that's onlucky," said the woman, whose motherly sympathies
were much aroused; "I'm re'lly consarned for ye. Solomon!" she called,
from the window, towards a small back building. A man, in leather apron
and very dirty hands, appeared at the door.

"I say, Sol," said the woman, "is that ar man going to tote them bar'ls
over tonight?"

"He said he should try, if 't was any way prudent," said the man.

"There's a man a piece down here, that's going over with some truck this
evening, if he durs' to; he'll be in here to supper tonight, so you'd
better set down and wait. That's a sweet little fellow," added the
woman, offering him a cake.

But the child, wholly exhausted, cried with weariness.

"Poor fellow! he isn't used to walking, and I've hurried him on so,"
said Eliza.

"Well, take him into this room," said the woman, opening into a small
bed-room, where stood a comfortable bed. Eliza laid the weary boy upon
it, and held his hands in hers till he was fast asleep. For her there
was no rest. As a fire in her bones, the thought of the pursuer urged
her on; and she gazed with longing eyes on the sullen, surging waters
that lay between her and liberty.

Here we must take our leave of her for the present, to follow the course
of her pursuers.