Masters who sent their slaves to this narrow neck of stubborn land between the bay and the river knew their property was safe. Edward Covey enjoyed the reputation of being a first-rate hand at breaking “bad niggers.” Slaveholders in the vicinity called him in when they had trouble. Since Covey was a poor man his occupation was of immense advantage to him. It enabled him to get his farm worked with very little expense. Like some horse-breakers noted for their skill, who rode the best horses in the country without expense, Covey could have under him the most fiery bloods of the neighborhood. He guaranteed to return any slave to his master well broken. Captain Auld had turned over to Covey this impudent young buck who had been sent down to the Eastern Shore from Baltimore. Among the items of his wife’s property, Captain Auld had found this slave listed as “Frederick.” “Sly and dangerous!” The Captain’s voice was hard. “Got to be broken now while he’s young.” “Frederick!” Covey had mouthed the syllables distastefully, his small green eyes traveling over the stocky, well-formed limbs, broad shoulders and long brown arms. “Too much name--too much head!” The comment was a sort of low growl. But his tones were servile as he addressed the master. “Know his kind well. Just leave him to me. I’ll take it out of him.” Then Frederick had lifted his head. His broad, smooth face turned to his master. His eyes were eloquent. _Why?_ But his lips did not move. Captain Auld spoke sternly. “Watch yourself! Don’t be bringing him back to me crippled. He’ll fetch a fair price in a couple of years. Comes of good stock.” Thomas Auld (why “Captain” no one knew) had not been born a slaveholder. Slaves had come to him through marriage. The stench of the whole thing sickened him, but he despised himself for his weakness. He dreaded his wife’s scorn. She had grown up on the Lloyd plantation where there were more slaves than anybody could count and there was always plenty of everything. Colonel Lloyd never had trouble with his slaves, she taunted her husband. Auld would tighten his colorless, thin lips. God knows he tried hard enough--starved himself to feed a parcel of no-good, lazy blacks. He thoroughly hated them all. This one now--this sleek young buck--he’d been ruined in the city by Hugh Auld. By his own brother and by that milk-faced wife of his. Teaching him to read! Ruining a good, strong field hand! Well, he’d try Covey. See what he could do. “Take him along!” * * * * * That had been shortly after “the Christmas.” It was now hot summer. For Frederick a long, long time had passed. He was indeed “broken.” A shuddering groan escaped the boy. Part of Covey’s irritation could be understood. He _had_ been clumsy and slow about the fields and barn. But he dared not ask questions, and since nobody took the trouble to tell him anything his furrows were shallow and crooked.