554 
FOREST AND STREAM 
May 3, 1913 
three white men watched and waited with dif¬ 
ferent degrees of patience. Fanner Kelly took 
it coolly and seemed half inclined to sleep on 
it. Jason on the contrary chafed continually 
and glared savagely at everything and every¬ 
body. Fie was young, impulsive, a disciple in 
politics of Joshua R. Giddings, and hated every 
species of slavery as a Milesian hates snakes. 
As for myself, I was young, a native of the Bay 
State, and, although a Democrat in politics, very 
unsound on the goose. I had never before seen 
a real fugitive fresh from slavery. I looked at 
the sleepers as they lay still and death-like in 
the glare of the forest camp-fire, and asked my¬ 
self : Should I, who had that very night been 
rescued from a miserable death with odds great- 
f ./. F 
INDIAN CAMP. 
ly against me—should I turn on these helpless 
ones and lend a hand to place them in slavery 
which they dreaded more than death? I did not 
see the,case clearly in all its bearings then, but 
I saw that it would be a crime scarce better 
than murder, and I only swore that come what 
might, law or no law', my mother’s son should 
never see a slave fairly and earnestly seeking 
his or her freedom without lending a helping hand. 
Two o'clock came and found the weary still 
soundly sleeping, w'hile the white men yet waited 
and watched. Jason, w'ho had been getting more 
impatient as the time wore on, at last seated 
himself by the farmer and relieved his impa¬ 
tience as follows: ‘‘Look here, Kelly, we may as 
well talk matters up a little. Here’s three human 
beings who will need help in the morning if ever 
three unlucky mortals did; now wdiat’s to be 
done? You know well that scamp Randolph will 
be back in the morning with a posse of black¬ 
guards to jail these people and get the sneak 
money. Now', if your boy has gone for help, 
say so, and w'e’ll know what to expect, for I 
shan’t stand by and see ’em taken ; it’s too cursed 
beastly and inhuman, so you see Fd like to know 
who and what to depend on. What do you say, 
Nessmuk ?” 
I had made up my mind to fight if there 
was no other road left open by which the run¬ 
aways might escape, and I said so, pledging my¬ 
self to stand by him to the best of my ability 
and see it out fairly if need be to the last. 
‘‘Good! That’s two, and the darky, if he 
ain’t afraid to fight, is equal to two more. Now, 
Kelly, let’s hear from you. I know there’s no 
fear of you helping the nigger catchers, but 
you’ve got a farm and a family hereabout and 
mayn’t want to get into law scrapes, so if you 
don’t want to help, why you can play spectator 
and hinder the constable a little in some way—” 
“You are good boys,” said the farmer; “good 
boys both of you, only don’t talk quite so loud, 
and come a little closer. Fll tell you something.” 
There was a pleasant twinkle in his eye as 
he said this, and when we had huddled quite 
close as though expecting him to whisper, he 
continued in a low, calm tone: “ ’Tain’t often 
I get anybody to help keep secrets which I can’t 
keep myself, but you’ll do to trust, I reckon, 
you two. Did you ever hear of such an institu¬ 
tion as the underground railroad?’’ 
We had heard of it, and Jason owned to 
having assisted the conductors of the road on 
one or two occasions. 
“Good! Now, I happen to be one of the 
conductors on that road; have had an interest 
in it for more than fourteen years here and in 
Ohio. In that time I’ve helped more than 200 
passengers on the road to freedom, and I don’t 
know as I’m the poorer for it. In all that time 
I haven’t been arrested, and only once have 
had to fight. That was when three of us were 
taking a family through from Terre Haute to 
the lakes. They got track of us and sent a man 
by the name of Boyce after ’us—a tiger of a 
man he was, and a regular nigger hunter. They 
came on us in the night on the road above New¬ 
port. and Boyce pitched in like a mad bull. If 
the two men he had along for helpers had a 
fought like him, we should ha’ had to cave, but 
they didn’t seem to care so much about it as he did, 
and the three nigger men we had aboard of our 
wagon fought for their freedom like bulldogs. 
I never thought to see slaves fight like that. 
Boyce fired his revolver twice and hit a darky 
both shots, but a big mulatto they called Com¬ 
modore took him a wipe over the head with a 
stone and stopped his nigger catching for one 
while. They went back to Newport and tried 
to raise a big turnout to catch us, but their 
leader’s skull was crushed, so he was disabled, 
and the people were glad of it. They wasn’t 
anxious to turn nigger hunters, so we got off 
without more trouble, and I’ve heard since that 
Boyce never got the better of the hurt on his 
head. I hope it’s so, too, for one of the darkies 
he shot died in about a week after getting to 
Wellington Square, in Canada, where he had a 
brother and a wife. I didn’t set in to tell a 
yarn, however; what I was going to say is this: 
I have been in more than a dozen scrapes when 
it looked as though a fight couldn’t be got over 
nohow, and yet, by pulling straight ahead, steady 
and cool, always trying to get away, to the last 
minute, without a fight, we always got off with¬ 
out a shot or a blow, except the time above New¬ 
port. It’ll be so now, you may depend on it. 
My boy has gone out to the clearings for some 
friends who are true as steel, and he’ll be back 
afore Randolph and his blackguards can get 
’round ; he’ll have a good team along and some 
clothes, so you see there ain’t likely to be a 
fight unless we meet them on the road, which 
may happen. In that case I think we’d better 
fight if need be, and it might be well enough 
to cut a good hickory for the darky. He ought 
to be able to whip four of them alone with a 
club if there’s anything in looks or size.” 
“Yes, massa,” said the negro, who had been 
awake and listening. ‘‘Yes, massa. I’ll use de 
club fas’ enuff, nebber you fear dat. Dar can’t 
no fo’ men take me back alive, bet on dat. I’se 
jes’ goin’ fro’ by daylight or die; I’se bin cut 
up enuff for one darky an’ dey won’t flog me 
no more. I cood got fro’ long ’fore dis time 
ef I’d bin alone, but I had to tote de little gal 
mos’ ebery step o’ de way, an’ it hender’d me 
mighty bad.” 
“And how far have you traveled?” asked 
Jason. 
“I couldn’t tell how fur, massa; it’s a mighty 
CAMP FIRE AS IT SHOULD BE MADE. 
long way; we b’longed to Colonel J., ’bout 
twelve mile from Richmond.” 
[to be continued.] 
Man’s Growth. 
A man’s organs and those of his bones 
which are not subject to pressure grow con¬ 
tinuously until he is 40 years old; that is to say, 
the heart should become stronger, the capacity 
of the lungs increase and the brain should de¬ 
velop steadily until the fourth decade of life. 
A man, says the Chicago Tribune, ceases 
to grow tall, however, at the beginning of the 
third decade, because after that time pressure 
exerted by the weight of the body while in the 
erect position compresses the vertebrae or small 
bones in the spine, the disks of cartilage be¬ 
tween them, the pelvis and the thigh bones, and 
this pressure overcomes the natural elasticity of 
the disks and the growth of these bones. 
However, a British scientist contends that 
were a man a quadruped, and therefore freed 
from the downward pressure produced by his 
weight upon his spinal column, he would con¬ 
tinue to grow in height for ten years longer 
than he does at present, since it has been found 
that bones not subjected to compression in¬ 
crease up to the fourth decade. 
