"No, indeed," said the hostess, stopping her cooking as Eliza's sweet,
plaintive voice fell on her ear; "the boats has stopped running."
Eliza's look of dismay struck her and she said, "Maybe you're wanting to
get over? anybody sick? Ye seem mighty anxious."

"I've got a child that's very dangerous," said Eliza, "I never heard of
it till last night, and I've walked quite a piece to-day, in hopes to
get to the ferry."

"Well, now, that's unlucky" said the woman, her motherly sympathies
aroused; "I'm rilly concerned for ye. Solomon!" she called from the
window. "I say Sol, is that ar man going to tote them bar'ls over
to-night?"

"He said he should try, if 'twas any ways prudent," replied a man's
voice.

"There's a man going over to-night, if he durs' to; he'll be in to
supper, so you'd better sit down and wait. That's a sweet little fellow"
added the woman, offering him a cake.

But the child, wholly exhausted, cried with weariness.

"Take him into this room," said the woman opening into a small bedroom,
and Eliza laid the weary boy on the comfortable bed, and held his hands
till he was fast asleep. For her there was no rest, the thought of her
pursuers urged her on, and she gazed with longing eyes on the swaying
waters between her and liberty.