eyes of Judge Wellington, with
few exceptions, continued to overlook "hands" that were invincible--a
habit they had acquired during a long and arduous course of training
from Saratoga to New Orleans. Major Frampton lost his money, his horses,
his wagons, and all his negroes but one, his body-servant. When his
misfortune had reached this limit, the major adjourned the game. The sun
was shining brightly, and all nature was cheerful. It is said that the
major also seemed to be cheerful. However this may be, he visited the
court-house, and executed the papers that gave his body-servant his
freedom. This being done, Major Frampton sauntered into a convenient
pine thicket, and blew out his brains.

The negro thus freed came to be known as Free Joe. Compelled, under the
law, to choose a guardian, he chose Judge Wellington, chiefly because
his wife Lucinda was among the negroes won from Major Frampton. For
several years Free Joe had what may be called a jovial time. His wife
Lucinda was well provided for, and he found it a comparatively easy
matter to provide for himself; so that, taking all the circumstances
into consideration, it is not matter for astonishment that he became
somewhat shiftless.

When Judge Wellington died, Free Joe's troubles began. The judge's
negroes, including Lucinda, went to his half-brother, a man named
Calderwood, who was a hard master and a rough customer generally--a man
of many eccentricities of mind and character. His neighbors had a habit
of alluding to him as "Old Spite"; and the name seemed to fit him so
completely that he was known far and near as "Spite" Calderwood. He
probably enjoyed the distinction the name gave him, at any rate he never
resented it, and it was not often that he missed an opportunity to show
that he deserved it. Calderwood's place was two or three miles from the
village of Hillsborough, and Free Joe visited his wife twice a week,
Wednesday and Saturday nights.

One Sunday he was sitting in front of Lucinda's cabin, when Calderwood
happened to pass that way.

"Howdy, marster?" said Free Joe, taking off his hat.

"Who are you?" exclaimed Calderwood abruptly, halting and staring at the
negro.

"I'm name' Joe, marster. I'm Lucindy's ole man."

"Who do you belong to?"

"Marse John Evans is my gyardeen, marster."

"Big name--gyardeen. Show your pass."

Free Joe produced that document, and Calderwood read it aloud slowly,
as if he found it difficult to get at the mea