She knew that she would never see her husband again.
"Let's get out of here," said Abe. "I can't stand any more."
They walked back to their own flatboat tied up at one of the wharves.
Allen got supper, but Abe could not eat.
"Don't look like that," said Allen. "Many of the folks down here
inherited their slaves, same as their land. Slavery ain't their fault."
"I never said it was anybody's fault--at least not anybody who's living
now. But it just ain't right for one man to own another."
"Well, stop worrying. There's nothing you can do about it."
"Maybe not," said Abe gloomily, "but I'm mighty glad there aren't any
slaves in Indiana."
Allen stayed on in New Orleans for several days to sell his cargo. It
brought a good price. He then sold his flatboat, which would be broken
up and used for lumber. Flatboats could not travel upstream. He and Abe
would either have to walk back to Indiana, or they could take a
steamboat.
"We'd better not walk, carrying all this money," said Allen. "Pretty
lonely country going home. We might get robbed."
The steamboat trip was a piece of good fortune that Abe had not
expected.
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