They remarked that after they found we had stopped to lay by until night, and they saw from our tracks what direction we were travelling, they went about ten miles on that direction, and hid by the road side until we came up that night.  That night after all had got fast to sleep, I thought I would try to get out, and I should have succeeded, if I could have moved the bed from the door.  I managed to untie myself and crawled under the bed which was placed at the door, and strove to remove it, but in so doing I awakened the men and they got up and confined me again, and watched me until day light, each with a gun in hand.

The next morning they started with us back to Deacon Whitfield’s plantation; but when they got within ten miles of where he lived they stopped at a public house to stay over night; and who should we meet there but the Deacon, who was then out looking for me.

The reader may well imagine how I felt to meet him.  I had almost as soon come in contact with Satan himself.  He had two long poles or sticks of wood brought in to confine us to.  I was compelled to lie on my back across one of those sticks with my arms out, and have them lashed fast to the log with a cord.  My feet were also tied to the other, and there I had to lie all that night with my back across this stick of wood, and my feet and hands tied.  I suffered that night under the most excruciating pain.  From the tight binding of the cord the circulation of the blood in my arms and feet was almost entirely stopped.  If the night had been much longer I must have died in that confinement.

The next morning we were taken back to the Deacon’s farm, and both flogged for going off, and set to work.  But there was some allowance made for me on account of my being young.  They said that they knew old Jack had persuaded me off, or I never would have gone.  And the Deacon’s wife begged that I might be favored some, for that time, as Jack had influenced me, so as to bring up my old habits of running away that I had entirely given up.

CHAPTER XIII.

I am sold to gamblers.—­They try to purchase my family.—­Our parting scene.—­My good usage.—­I am sold to an Indian.—­His confidence in my integrity manifested.

The reader will remember that this brings me back to the time the Deacon had ordered me to be kept in confinement until he got a chance to sell me, and that no negro should ever get away from him and live.  Some days after this we were all out at the gin house ginning cotton, which was situated on the road side, and there came along a company of men, fifteen or twenty in number, who were Southern sportsmen.  Their attention was attracted by the load of iron which was fastened about my neck with a bell attached.  They stopped and asked the Deacon what that bell was put on my neck for? and he said it was to keep me from running away, &c.

They remarked that I looked as if I might be a smart negro, and asked if he wanted to sell me.  The reply was, yes.  They then got off their horses and struck a bargain with him for me.  They bought me at a reduced price for speculation.