d do if I did not return instantly. But,
disregarding his calls and his threats, I pressed on toward the woods
as fast as my feeble state would allow. Seeing no signs of my stopping,
Covey caused his horse to be brought out and saddled, as if he intended
to pursue me. The race was now to be an unequal one; and, thinking I
might be overhauled by him, if I kept the main road, I walked nearly the
whole distance in the woods, keeping far enough from the road to
avoid detection and pursuit. But, I had not gone far, before my little
strength again failed me, and I laid down. The blood was still oozing
from the wound in my head; and, for a time, I suffered more than I can
describe. There I was, in the deep woods, sick and emaciated, pursued by
a wretch whose character for revolting cruelty beggars all opprobrious
speech--bleeding, and almost bloodless. I was not without the fear of
bleeding to death. The thought of dying in the woods, all alone, and
of being torn to pieces by the buzzards, had not yet been rendered
tolerable by my many troubles and hardships, and I was glad when the
shade of the trees, and the cool evening breeze, combined with my matted
hair to stop the flow of blood. After lying there about three quarters
of an hour, brooding over the singular and mournful lot to which I was
doomed, my mind passing over the whole scale or circle of belief
and unbelief, from faith in the overruling providence of God, to the
blackest atheism, I again took up my journey toward St. Michael's, more
weary and sad than in the morning when I left Thomas Auld's for the home
of Mr. Covey. I was bare-footed and bare-headed, and in{177} my shirt
sleeves. The way was through bogs and briers, and I tore my feet often
during the journey. I was full five hours in going the seven or eight
miles; partly, because of the difficulties of the way, and partly,
because of the feebleness induced by my illness, bruises and loss
of blood. On gaining my master's store, I presented an appearance of
wretchedness and woe, fitted to move any but a heart of stone. From the
crown of my head to the sole of my feet, there were marks of blood. My
hair was all clotted with dust and blood, and the back of my shirt was
literally stiff with the same. Briers and thorns had scarred and torn
my feet and legs, leaving blood marks there. Had I escaped from a den
of tigers, I could not have looked worse than I did on reaching St.
Michael's. In this unhappy plight, I appear