The facts that they had been constantly moving in a southerly direction and that the river looked just like the one they had crossed previously, although it was now frozen solid — the one they were told by the boy was the Kanawha River since the Ohio was supposed to be much bigger — alerted Nicodemus to the man’s chicanery. He was not an abolitionist at all but possibly a bounty hunter who was taking them back to Fairfield Farms for a reward. When Nicodemus voiced his suspicions the man drew his musket and laughed in his face and boasted that yes, indeed, they were back at the Kanawha River. But he was not so foolish as to take them back to their master in Putnam County where he would get a small reward. He was a slave trader in his own right and would forcibly transport them to Kentucky where he would sell them for a much better price. But since no one would purchase a slave that was dying of fever he would have to shoot Abednego dead if he didn’t get better soon. In the meantime he would tie both boys with a rope and carry Abednego on his horse like a bundle all the way to Kentucky.
Nicodemus had no choice but to give in to the man while he tried to tie his wrists behind his back with a rope. The road to Kentucky was still very long and surely the Spirit would not desert them. The Spirit knew that there was still the length of Mason County to cross, and then Cabell County and then Wayne County and only then would they reach the Kentucky border. An opportunity would surely avail itself along the way. The slave hunter was reciting these counties while warning them that he would not stand any nonsense and would have to tie them securely as there was still a long way to go.
But the man had not reckoned with Abednego, who was lying flat on the crazy quilt on the snow apparently waiting for his turn to be roped. He reached for the musket and hit the man on the head. The blow was feeble, but good enough to distract the man and give Nicodemus the opportunity to break loose and hit the man hard in the stomach. The man fell to the ground and Nicodemus hit him on the head with the musket. Both boys hit him repeatedly with the musket and with rocks and left him for dead. In the meantime his horse escaped, which was too bad because the boys had hoped to use it for their escape. They headed for the woods knowing very well that they would be dead meat if they were found, and that now every slave hunter in the area would be looking for them.
As they hid in the woods they asked themselves where they had gone wrong. For a while Massa Blue Fly and the Spirit had deserted them. That must have been the only reason they were almost resold as slaves just when they thought they were on the verge of freedom. Abednego felt that even his sickness must be due to some punishment for something they had not done right. They should have received their mother’s blessing before leaving Fairfield Farms. The Abyssinian Queen. They needed to feel close to her. The quilts. Their odor would bring her close. The crazy quilt! Where was it? When did they lose it? They must have left it when they fled the scene after beating the slave trader to a paste. They remembered very clearly that when Abednego was riding on the horse he was cosily wrapped in the quilt. When he lunged at the man the quilt was on the snow. He had been lying on it. They must have left it there when they fled. Nicodemus could have strangled himself for remembering only to grab his sampler. It was a selfish act, he told his brother, for he should have known that in his feverish state Abednego would not have thought of rescuing his quilt before fleeing. But Abednego did not think his brother was to blame at all. He, Abednego, should have taken care of his own quilt. He might be sick but he was the big brother, after all, and Nicodemus had better stop babying him.
They could not go back for the crazy quilt. It was much too dangerous for that. Instead they spread the sampler on the snow and examined each design, recalling its meaning. They had obeyed the Monkey Wrench by preparing well and equipping themselves with essential tools and provisions for the flight, they had obeyed the Drunkard’s Path by following a zigzag path, and the North Star by taking a northerly direction with the guidance of heavenly bodies. There were other designs whose meaning they did not know how to follow. There was, for instance, the Shoofly, which was made of squares and triangles arranged in such a way that they looked similar to the Monkey Wrench. The uninitiated actually confused the two, the Abyssinian Queen used to tell the boys. Then there were the triangles of the Bow Tie, the squares of the Crossroads, the rectangles of the Log Cabin and the circles of the Wagon Wheel. The boys believed the meaning conveyed by all these would be made clear once they crossed the River Jordan. For instance, they believed that on the way to the Promised Land they would be conveyed in wagons to log cabins of safety where they would dress in suits and bow ties.
One design troubled the boys: the Flying Geese. These were groups of eight triangles arranged like birds in flight in four different directions. Not only did the Abyssinian Queen talk a lot about the Flying Geese, she sang about them: flee like the geese in spring or summer. They had not obeyed this commandment. They were too impatient to wait for spring or summer. Instead of listening to the advice of the Flying Geese design they obeyed their anger at the Fairfields for leasing Abednego’s girlfriend to a bordello and for unjustly threatening both boys with auction. Now they were paying the price.
After a day and night of intruding on the serenity of white hills, of braving snowstorms and wind-blasted forests and of being over-awed by glacial waterfalls, the boys finally beheld the biggest river they had ever imagined. But its majestic waters were not flowing. The whole river was frozen solid. The low clouds absorbed the rays of the midday sun, giving both the heavens and the earth a uniform silvery color. Only the glacial surface of the river distinguished it from its banks and the hills. They walked down to the snow-covered boats anchored under the naked trees and waited for the night, lest they be spotted. But hiding was a futile exercise for they had to do something about the frostbite that was beginning to attack their fingers, toes and ear lobes. Abednego’s skin was beginning to get red around the ears, cheeks and nose, and Nicodemus was feeling some numbness in his fingers too. As usual they gathered oak leaves and used the last of their tinder to light a fire. Their stress began to dissipate as the blood in their bodies began to flow. They warmed their hands, feet and faces very slowly, and then wrapped their feet over and over again in dry rags. Then they put on their worn boots.
Abednego, still weak from the fever but feeling much better, expressed his surprise that they had reached the River Jordan but there were no chariots coming to carry them home, no band of angels coming to help them cross the River Jordan. No water flowing either. The river and its surroundings stood still and silent.
“It’s a good thing the water is frozen,” said the younger brother. “We gonna walk across the River Jordan.”
As he spoke Massa Blue Fly hovered above their heads, making irritating buzzing sounds and then flying away. That night the moon shone on the river, giving it a ghostly appearance, and the boys took the first few steps on the river. At first they hesitated, fearing that the ice would break under their weight. But they needn’t have feared: that winter of 1838 the Ohio River was frozen solid for two weeks. The ice was thick enough to support the weight of a horse drawing a carriage. Soon they were sliding on the ice; their worn boots performing the work of skates without much resistance. The boys had obviously forgotten about all their fears and were having a great time. Before skating their way to what they believed was freedom they became boys again and played on the ice. Even the weak Abednego was able to follow the bigger and stronger younger brother in tracing the figure eight. They played with the combination of their shadows and reflections cast on the ice by the moon. After drawing the figure eight over and over again in different directions and sizes Nicodemus followed his brother as he unsteadily zigzagged the Drunkard’s Path on the ice. Still the ghostly shadows and reflections followed. Making faces at them. Wiggling their way a few feet from them. And then coming close until their feet merged with the boys’. Until the boys were exhausted. Until they finally skated to the Pomeroy, Ohio, side of the river. There they lay on the snow for some time to catch their breath. And then they resumed their walk, climbing the steep hill away from the river.