rling past every old
familiar spot, until the bounds of the estate were fairly passed, and
they found themselves out on the open pike. After they had ridden about
a mile, Haley suddenly drew up at the door of a blacksmith's shop, when,
taking out with him a pair of handcuffs, he stepped into the shop, to
have a little alteration in them.

"These yer 's a little too small for his build," said Haley, showing the
fetters, and pointing out to Tom.

"Lor! now, if thar an't Shelby's Tom. He han't sold him, now?" said the
smith.

"Yes, he has," said Haley.

"Now, ye don't! well, reely," said the smith, "who'd a thought it! Why,
ye needn't go to fetterin' him up this yer way. He's the faithfullest,
best crittur--"

"Yes, yes," said Haley; "but your good fellers are just the critturs to
want ter run off. Them stupid ones, as doesn't care whar they go, and
shifless, drunken ones, as don't care for nothin', they'll stick by,
and like as not be rather pleased to be toted round; but these yer
prime fellers, they hates it like sin. No way but to fetter 'em; got
legs,--they'll use 'em,--no mistake."

"Well," said the smith, feeling among his tools, "them plantations down
thar, stranger, an't jest the place a Kentuck nigger wants to go to;
they dies thar tol'able fast, don't they?"

"Wal, yes, tol'able fast, ther dying is; what with the 'climating and
one thing and another, they dies so as to keep the market up pretty
brisk," said Haley.

"Wal, now, a feller can't help thinkin' it's a mighty pity to have a
nice, quiet, likely feller, as good un as Tom is, go down to be fairly
ground up on one of them ar sugar plantations."

"Wal, he's got a fa'r chance. I promised to do well by him. I'll get
him in house-servant in some good old family, and then, if he stands the
fever and 'climating, he'll have a berth good as any nigger ought ter
ask for."

"He leaves his wife and chil'en up here, s'pose?"

"Yes; but he'll get another thar. Lord, thar's women enough everywhar,"
said Haley.

Tom was sitting very mournfully on the outside of the shop while this
conversation was going on. Suddenly he heard the quick, short click of
a horse's hoof behind him; and, before he could fairly awake from his
surprise, young Master George sprang into the wagon, threw his arms
tumultuously round his neck, and was sobbing and scolding with energy.

"I declare, it's real mean! I don't care what they say, any of 'em! It's
a nasty, mean shame! If I