He went back over what Captain Auld had said--how the buck had been ruined by the Captain’s city kin, coddled and taught to read until he was too smart for his own or anybody else’s good. “Take it out of him!” Captain Auld had stormed. “Break him!” And he had promised he would. _Well!_ Covey was so still that Lucy, coming to the door and peeping out, thought he was dozing. She went away shaking her head. _Poor Mr. Covey! He’s not himself these days._ He was turning it over in his mind, weighing it. Really big plantations all had some smart niggers on them, niggers who could work with tools, niggers who could measure and figure, even buy and sell. Naturally he hated such niggers when he came across them in town, often as not riding sleek, black horses. But having one on your own plantation was different. Like having a darky preacher around, like being a Colonel in a great white plantation house with a rolling green and big trees. The last faint streaks of color faded from the sky. For a little while the tall pines in the distance loomed blade against soft gray. Then they faded, and overhead the stars came out. Covey rose, yawned and stretched himself. Tomorrow he would talk to Fred about that figuring. It was still the Sabbath. There was nothing subtle about Covey the next day. He was clumsy, disagreeable and domineering. Frederick suspected that he was being tricked. But there was no turning back. He said, “Yes, sir, I can chalk up the bales.” So he marked and counted each load of cotton, noted the weighing of the wheat and oats, set down many figures. And Covey took his “chalk man” to town with him. It got about among the white folks that the “Auld boy” could read and write. The white masters heard other whisperings too--vague, amusing “nigger talk.” But it was disturbing. Couldn’t be too careful these days. There had been that Nat Turner! And a cold breath lifted the hair on the backs of their necks. Frederick’s term of service with Edward Covey expired on Christmas day, 1834. The slave-breaker took him back to Captain Auld. The boy was in good shape, but Captain Auld regarded both of them sourly. The talk had reached his ears, and he had been warned that he had better get rid of this slave. “One bad sheep will spoil a whole flock,” they said. Captain Auld dared not ignore the advice of his powerful neighbors. His slave holdings were small compared to theirs. Yet he did not want to sell a buck not yet grown to his full value. Therefore he arranged to hire the boy out to easy-going Mr. William Freeland, who lived on a fine old farm about four miles from St. Michaels. Covey covered the dirt road back to his place at a savage pace. He was in a mean mood. That night he flogged a half-wit slave until the black fainted. Then he stomped into the house and, fully dressed, flung himself across the bed. Lucy didn’t dare touch him and Caroline wouldn’t.