ketch 'em, en I seed
my marster! I 'mos' flopped down on de groun', I felt so gone. He had
his back to me, en 'uz talkin' to de man en givin' him some bills--nigger
bills, I reckon, en I's de nigger. He's offerin' a reward--dat's it.
Ain't I right, don't you reckon?"

Tom had been gradually sinking into a state of ghastly terror, and he
said to himself, now: "I'm lost, no matter what turn things take! This
man has said to me that he thinks there was something suspicious about
that sale; he said he had a letter from a passenger on the GRAND MOGUL
saying that Roxy came here on that boat and that everybody on board knew
all about the case; so he says that her coming here instead of flying to
a free state looks bad for me, and that if I don't find her for him, and
that pretty soon, he will make trouble for me. I never believed that
story; I couldn't believe she would be so dead to all motherly instincts
as to come here, knowing the risk she would run of getting me into
irremediable trouble. And after all, here she is! And I stupidly swore
I would help find her, thinking it was a perfectly safe thing to promise.
If I venture to deliver her up, she--she--but how can I help myself?
I've got to do that or pay the money, and where's the money to come from?
I--I--well, I should think that if he would swear to treat her kindly
hereafter--and she says, herself, that he is a good man--and if he would
swear to never allow her to be overworked, or ill fed, or--"

A flash of lightning exposed Tom's pallid face, drawn and rigid with
these worrying thoughts. Roxana spoke up sharply now, and there was
apprehension in her voice.

"Turn up dat light! I want to see yo' face better. Dah now--lemme look
at you. Chambers, you's as white as yo' shirt! Has you see dat man? Has
he be'n to see you?"

"Ye-s."

"When?"

"Monday noon."

"Monday noon! Was he on my track?"

"He--well, he thought he was. That is, he hoped he was. This is the bill
you saw." He took it out of his pocket.

"Read it to me!"

She was panting with excitement, and there was a dusky glow in her eyes
that Tom could not translate with certainty, but there seemed to be
something threatening about it. The handbill had the usual rude woodcut
of a turbaned Negro woman running, with the customary bundle on a stick
over her shoulder, and the heading in bold type, "$100 REWARD." Tom read
the bill aloud--at least the part that described Roxana and named the