I thought his
back would be bloody and all cut to pieces, and that he'd have chains on
him, and I was disappointed because I couldn't see his skin through his
shirt and because his hands were free. I must have gotten too near the
mare, for before I knew it he had lifted me out of danger.
"'What's your name?' I asked.
"'Aleck,' he said; 'an' what's your name, young marster?'
"'Sammy,' I said.
"That's the way it began between us, and it's kept on ever since. I call
him 'Aleck,' and he calls me 'Sammy'--never anything else, even today."
"He calls you 'Sammy'!" I said, in astonishment. The familiarity was new
to me between master and slave.
"Yes, always. There isn't another person in the world now that calls me
'Sammy,'" he answered, with a tremor in his voice.
My travelling-companion stopped for a moment, cleared his throat, drew a
silver match-safe from his pocket, relighted his cigar, and continued.
"The overseer put Aleck to ploughing the old orchard that lay between
the quarters and the house.
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