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Show Sometime in the middle of the night, he buried himself in a haystack. The total exhaustion from the miles of walkingovershadowed the pulsating pain in his feet, and he fell into a deep sleep the thick, dry hay keeping him warm against the December night. The next morning the muscles in Port's back and legs were so sore he didn't know if he could stand up straight, and when he finally did, the pain in his raw feet shot through his legs with such force, he doubted if he would be able to take a single step. But he was too close to Independence, Independ-ence, even closer to Liberty. If discovered, dis-covered, his enemies would flock to him like buzzards to a carcass. He had to keep moving, and he had to keep off the main roads. With nothing more than sheer force of mind, he willed one foot to place itself in front of the other, trying desperately to ignore the pain. Still, he was happy. The freedom to move, to breathe fresh clean air, to feel the sun and wind again, even in December, were blessings of unimaginable un-imaginable magnitude. To drink out of a spring, to look at the trees, the sky, the birds, even to feel his muscles working hard were blessings bless-ings he had nearly forgotten. "Feet must be pretty sore," a strange male voice said. Port looked to his right. Alargeman inabuck-skin inabuck-skin jacket was walking towards him through the woods. Port could hardly believe he hadn't seen the man sooner. He must have lost some of his alertness during the long months in jail. His first thought was to run, but as sore and worn out as he was, he didn't figure he could outdistance the man who strode through the woods with the ease and strength of one who could travel many miles without stopping. stop-ping. The stranger was grinning, and didn't appear to have a gun. " "' ' " Port sat down on a fallen log, nodding for the stranger to join him. "The name's William Brown," Port said, offennghishandtothe?1 man who appeared much W, ' front than he had at a distance P'5 "My name's Frank. Going 0Ver iftoo to Crooked River to help my broth put in a store of firewood for 1 winter," the stranger said, his spwcv slow, and his words slurred H had not been drinking. 6 "Got any money?" Port asked & suddenly getting an idea The4 stranger seemed extremely strong and from his slow speech, not vert S smart. ; "Nope." "Want to earn fifty cents?" y "Would like to," Frank replied "but got to be to my sister's U l ". nightfall." Y "You can earn the money while V walking to your sister's." "You're joshing," Frank U laughed. "How could I earn money i walking to my sister's house?" (. "Carry me on your back. I'll pay 4 you twenty five cents to take me to Crooked River." "Why would you do that?" Frank?H asked, a big smile on his face. Itf was obvious the big man was notjg taking the offerrt seriously. Clenching his jaw against c,l the pain', Port carefully removed'" one ofhisboots, showing Frank the h blood-stained sole of his foot. "Got me a job starting in Mon-JJ trose next week, PortGT' explained. "Can't get there on these011 bloody feet. Until I can rent a horse, be more than happy to rent a bigoi strong feller like you." I "Crooked River is only a dozens'! miles or so," Frank said.jt thoughtfully. "Be glad tojjj oblige. Hop on." He stood up, and" turned his back to Port, who quicWya pulled his boot back on and climbed' . on Frank's back, much like a child climbs on his father's back for ad piggyback ride. Port had lost a lot of weight in; jail. Still, Frank marched along with such ease, that Port guessed the j big stranger had the strength of an; ox. (To be continued)? 'v |