Chapter V. The One Way     

       Keith said nothing for some moments, staring up at the light stealing in through the window grating, his mind once again active. The eyes of the black man had the patient look of a dog as they watched; evidently he had cast aside all responsibility, now that this other had come. Finally Keith spoke slowly:     

       “We are in much the same position, Neb, and the fate of one is liable to be the fate of both. This is my story”—and briefly as possible, he ran over the circumstances which had brought him there, putting the       situation clear enough for the negro's understanding, without wasting any time upon detail. Neb followed his recital with bulging eyes, and an occasional exclamation. At the end he burst forth:     

       “Yo' say dar was two ob dem white men murdered—one an ol' man wid a gray beard, an' de odder 'bout thirty? Am dat it, Massa Jack, an' dey had fo' span ob mules, an' a runnin' hoss?”      

       “Yes.”      

       “An' how far out was it?”      

       “About sixty miles.”      

       “Oh, de good Lawd!” and the negro threw up his hands dramatically. “Dat sutt'nly am my outfit! Dat am Massa Waite an' John Sibley.”      

       “You mean the same men with whom you came here from Independence?”      

       Neb nodded, overcome by the discovery.     

       “But what caused them to run such a risk?” Keith insisted. “Didn't they know the Indians were on the war path?”      

       “Sho'; I heard 'em talkin' 'bout dat, but Massa Waite was jest boun' foh to git movin'. He didn't 'pear to be 'fraid ob no Injuns; reck'ned dey'd nebber stop him, dat he knowed ebbery chief on de plains. I reck'n dat he did, too.”      

       “But what was he so anxious to get away for?”      

       “I dunno, Massa, I done heerd 'em talk some 'bout dey plans, an' 'bout some gal dey wanted ter fin', but I didn't git no right sense to it. De Gin'ral, he was a mighty still man.”      

       “The General? Whom do 

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