The sheriff willingly obliged the traders. So they fell upon the prisoners like a bunch of vultures, feeling their arms and legs, shaking them by the shoulders to see if they were sound and healthy, making them jump up and down on one foot, examining their teeth, examining their testicles. “This one, now,”--the trader was “going over” Frederick--“he’d go fine with a piece I picked up last week. She’s swellin’ with heat. They’d make a litter!” The two men laughed. “How’d you like to go with me, buck boy?” He kicked him lightly. Frederick, his rage choking him, did not answer. “Um--no tongue,” the second trader grunted. “Look at his eyes!” the first man said. “If I had ’im, I’d cut the devil out of him pretty quick!” This went on for several days, with no further questions nor any beatings. The suspense was terrible. The dream of freedom faded. Then one afternoon the master of Freelands appeared with Mr. Hamilton and took away all the prisoners except Frederick. They were going back with no further punishment. Old Missus had persuaded her son that this was the just and correct course. “Nobody’s to blame but that hired boy! Bring our folks home!” He talked it over with Hamilton. For want of an alternative, he assented. Freeland could not have explained to himself why he allowed them to tell Frederick goodbye. All that his mother had said about him had been proven true. He _was_ dangerous. He was certain that this boy, standing there so quietly, had planned an escape for his slaves. How many were involved and where were they going? Why should they wish to leave Freelands? They had far less to worry them than the master had--a shelter over their heads, clothing, food. His mother nursed them when they were sick. Their work was not heavy. He would have liked to ask this boy some questions. It was evident that the others did not want to go. Henry clung to Frederick’s arm, his big, ugly face working. He heard Sandy, who seldom spoke, say, “Big tree bow in the wind. Big tree stand!” “I will not be forgettin’!” Frederick answered. They went away then and climbed into the waiting wagon. They were going back in state--riding with one of Mr. Hamilton’s men driving the mules. The masters were on horseback. Frederick, standing beside the barred window, saw them wave as the wagon turned into the road. Alone in the prison Frederick gave way to complete misery. He felt certain now that he was doomed to the ever-dreaded Georgia, Louisiana, or Alabama. They would be coming for him now, to take him “down the river.” Even in his despair he was glad that the others were not going with him. At least they were no worse off than before their heads had been filled with dreams of freedom. And now they could read. Eventually they would get away. But he was too young to derive much comfort from this thought--too young and too much alive.