The next house, the dog was barking out in the yard, He went by as fast as he could, but when he looked back A man had come out with a hostile stick in his hand. Spade shook his head. “Freedom’s land,” he thought to himself, “They’s some mighty quick-actin’ people in Freedom’s land, Some mighty rash-tempered dogs.” He swayed as he walked. Here was another house. He looked for the dog With fright in his eyes. Then a swimming qualm came over him, A deathly faintness. His hands went out to the fence. He gripped two palings, hung, and stared at his shoes. Somebody was talking to him. He tried to move on But his legs wouldn’t walk. The voice was a woman’s voice.

She’d be calling the dog in a minute. He shivered hard. “Excuse me ma’am, but I’se feelin’ poorly,” he said. “I just crossed over⁠—I’ll go as soon as I kin.” A man’s voice now. They were taking him under the arms. He didn’t care what they did. He let himself walk.