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“You can’t stay here.”
“We ain’t getting out of the marsh this way.”
“I’ll help you. Can you walk if I help you?”
“I ain’t going far.”
“Let’s get away from the wagon. They can probably smell the whiskey out on the river.”
“There’s something you got to do first.”
“What?”
“Them mules is suffering,” Tereau said. He took the long double-edged knife from his boot. The blade shone like blue ice in the moonlight. “Put it under the neck. They won’t feel no pain that way.” He handed the knife to Avery.
Tereau leaned against a tree while Avery went over to the mules. The knife cut deeply and quick. He cleaned the blade on the grass and came back.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Farther down the gully there was a rainwash that had eroded a depression in the bank. It was dry now and overgrown with vines and small bushes. Avery was able to get Tereau up the wash to the road. They crossed to the other side and entered the thicket and headed towards the opposite end of the marsh where the still was. Tereau could take only a few steps at a time. For the next hour they worked their way through the undergrowth. Tereau was breathing hard and had to rest often. The vines scratched their faces and necks. In some areas the mosquitoes were very bad and swarmed around them and got inside their clothes. It took all Avery’s strength to keep the Negro on his feet. Tereau took his arm from Avery’s shoulder and sat on the ground.
“Go on and let me be,” he said.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Go on. You don’t belong down here nohow.”
“You’re not helping anything. You’re making things harder,” Avery said.
“My legs are gone. You’d have to carry me.”
“All right. I’ll try it.”
“You ain’t talking good sense.”
“I’ll get somebody to help. Will you be all right if I hide you here?”
“I’ll get along.”
Avery put him in the bushes and cut some branches from the trees to cover him.
“Leave me the knife,” Tereau said. “What for?”
“I need it.”
“No.”
“Give me my knife and get away from here.”
“I’m not going to give it to you. Stay put till I get back.” He put the knife in his belt.
“I’m too old a man to go to prison.”
“Stop talking like that.”
“Ain’t you got any sense at all? You won’t be back in time, and I ain’t going to no jailhouse.”
“Don’t talk so loud.”
