"I haven't got a bit of straw myself on which to put you; but you
come along with me."
They walked together for about half a mile, till they came to a barn.
There was a haystack close by, and they dragged some of the dry hay
into it.
"You'd better be away from these parts afore it's light, and, if you
take my advice, Liverpool is the best place for you."
He was right. Liverpool was a large town, and, what was of more
consequence, it was not so revolutionary as Manchester, and the
search there for the suspected was not so strict. The road was
explained, so far as Zachariah's friend knew it, and they parted.
Zachariah slept but little, and at four o'clock, with a bright moon,
he started. He met with no particular adventure, and in the evening
found himself once more in a wilderness of strange streets, with no
outlook, face to face with the Red Sea. Happy is the man who, if he
is to have an experience of this kind, is trained to it when young,
and is not suddenly brought to it after a life of security.
Zachariah, although he was desponding, could now say he had been in
the same straits before, and had survived. That is the consolation
of all consolations to us.
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