He died about midnight and I understood from his friends that he was not to be buried until the second day after his death.

I pretended to be taking on at a great rate about his death, but I was more excited about running away, than I was about that, and before daylight the next morning I proved it, for I was on my way to Canada.
I never expected a better opportunity would present itself for my escape.

I slipped out of the room as if I had gone off to weep for the deceased, knowing that they would not feel alarmed about me until after my master was buried and they had returned back to his residence.

And even then, they would think that I was somewhere on my way home; and it would be at least four or five days before they would make any stir in looking after me.

By that time, if I had no bad luck, I should be out of much danger.
After the first day, I laid by in the day and traveled by night for several days and nights, passing in this way through several tribes of Indians.