Toby plunged his paddle into the murky white-capped river and pulled it toward the back of his canoe with all his might. His arms and shoulders burned and ached with the effort. But he quickly switched his paddle to the other side of the boat and repeated the motion. The braying hounds were close enough that he could hear them over the sloshing of water. He heard a shout of “There!” immediately followed by the explosion of a shotgun. Toby paddled harder.

His most recent host had woken him before sunrise with news that hunters from the compound were on their way. He’d urged Toby out, with the girl cradled in his arms, pointing them to a pine bluff and whispering instructions for how to find the canoe and the next safe house. He’d passed the girl to Toby once they were hidden behind the big brown barn. “Now, y’all go as quick as you can, and good luck. I’ve got a cow to milk.” He’d winked as he spoke the last bit.

So Toby had run. Of course, the girl had slowed him down, small as she was. She had stared around with wide wet eyes until she’d fainted in Toby’s arms, no doubt from the pain in her splinted arm. More than once before they reached the bluff Toby was tempted to curse his principles. “This girl’s gonna get me caught and dragged back and beaten to within an inch of my life!” he’d thought every time he’d stumbled along the way.