47

"No," John said. "Only you."

If I ran Miss Eloise would die, and my friends would remain slaves no matter what I did. I couldn't imagine a life where Eloise was dead and where I'd never lay eyes on Big Mama Flore again. The only choice I had was to go back to Corinthian, and I knew that I would at least get bull-whipped for running away.

I could feel the lash on my back even as I stood there in that primal paradise. Fear of the whip brought tears to my eyes. But the thought of leaving my friends and the thought of the Master's daughter dying was too much for me.

That was the way it was for the short while that I knew Tall John from beyond Africa. Everything he said to me was both a test and a lesson. Being his friend was my first experience with the responsibilities of freedom.

"We bettah get back," I said.

"But you said that they would kill us," John argued. "Wouldn't it be better to run?"

"But that girl is dyin'."

"But she's related to people that make Negroes into

slaves. Wouldn't it be better to let her die? Wouldn't it be better for Tobias to feel like you do about the suffering of your people? Anyway, Flore and Mud Albert will be slaves if you go back or not."

I looked up at the strange boy who had befriended me. At first I thought that he was making fun of me. But when I looked into his face I saw that he really expected me to have no feelings for Eloise and even the other slaves.

"No," I said. "I wanna run. An' I sho nuff don' wanna die. But I'd be lonely without my friends in Canaland and I don't blame Miss Eloise for my sufferin'."

"One day you will have to leave the plantation, Forty-seven. Your destiny is far from here."

"Come on," I said. "Let's get back before I change my mind about runnin'."

The sun was out and John was able to move fast again. So it wasn't too very long before we got to the plantation. I wanted to go right out in the fields and start working, pretending that nothing had happened. But John ran us right up to the front porch of the Master's home and knocked on his door.

Fred Chocolate answered. I knew we were in trouble when a worried look came into his sour face. I knew we were dead.

"Run," Fred said. "Run away from here you stupid niggers. Run."

117

teen

"I've come to see Tobias," John said.

"Tell this soft-headed fool to run from here," Fred said to me.

I grabbed John's arm but his feet were planted like tree roots. There was no moving him.

"Bring Tobias Turner to me," John said in a stern tone.

Fred fell back a step and then a voice came from somewhere in the house.

"Who is that you're talkin' to, Fred Chocolate?" It was Master Tobias.

My guts turned to water and my knees were no sturdier than blades of grass. Tobias came to the door, pushing the butler aside.

"What's this?" he cried. "The runaways. Call Mr. Stewart, Fred. I will have these boys whipped in front of all the slaves out here. Whipped until their backs is bloody and their heads hang down dead."

"No!" Big Mama Flore cried.

I saw her run into the big sitting room behind our enraged Master.

"They just boys, Master Tobias," Fred said.

And even though I was afraid for my life I was amazed that the snooty house Negro would have stood up for two pieces of field trash like us.

"Mr. Stewart!" Tobias cried.

"You can kill us, Tobias Turner," John said in a voice that could not be ignored. "But will you allow us save your daughter's life before you do?"

The russet-hued lad held up his napkin-sack of medicine.

"What are you sayin', Number Twelve?" the Master asked.

"You sent us to find medicine," my friend said proudly. "We've done that. We had to go far away and we got stuck in the rain. I couldn't let the herbs we carried get wet and so we had to hide until the rain stopped."

"The rain quit late last night, nigger!" Mr. Stewart said from behind us.

He had just gained the porch in answer to Tobias's call. I could feel the stamping of his hard boots on the wood beneath our feet. Every time his shod feet hit the planks I imagined him trampling on my bones.

"We fell asleep," John said to Tobias. "We were tired from searching for the medicines your girl needed."

"You can break her fever?" Tobias asked. His voice was lower now. I could hear the sorrow and exhaustion in his words.

"Yes, sir," John said, as serious as a hangman.

"Then come on upstairs before it's too late," Tobias said.

"Number Forty-seven has to come with me," John told Tobias, and I really wished he hadn't. All I wanted to do was to get back out in the cotton fields; back to where I was just a slave and nobody white talked to me or worried about my whereabouts.

"I can't let two filthy niggers in my little girl's room."

"You'd rather let her die?" John asked.

He was no longer acting like a downtrodden slave. Tall