me home; and in this I was quite correct--the facts showed that he
had made no effort to catch me, since morning.

During the night, I heard the step of a man in the woods. He was coming
toward the place where I lay. A person lying still has the advantage
over one walking in the woods, in the day time, and this advantage is
much greater at night. I was not able to engage in a physical struggle,
and I had recourse to the common resort of the weak. I hid myself in the
leaves to prevent discovery. But, as the night rambler in the woods drew
nearer, I found him to be a _friend_, not an enemy; it was a slave of
Mr. William Groomes, of Easton, a kind hearted fellow, named "Sandy."
Sandy lived with Mr. Kemp that year, about four miles from St.
Michael's. He, like myself had been hired out by the year; but, unlike
myself, had not been hired out to be broken. Sandy was the husband of a
free woman, who lived in the lower part of _"Potpie Neck,"_ and he was
now on his way through the woods, to see her, and to spend the Sabbath
with her.

As soon as I had ascertained that the disturber of my solitude was not
an enemy, but the good-hearted Sandy--a man as famous among the slaves
of the neighborhood for his good nature, as for his good sense I came
out from my hiding place, and made{183} myself known to him. I explained
the circumstances of the past two days, which had driven me to the
woods, and he deeply compassionated my distress. It was a bold thing
for him to shelter me, and I could not ask him to do so; for, had I
been found in his hut, he would have suffered the penalty of thirty-nine
lashes on his bare back, if not something worse. But Sandy was too
generous to permit the fear of punishment to prevent his relieving a
brother bondman from hunger and exposure; and, therefore, on his own
motion, I accompanied him to his home, or rather to the home of his
wife--for the house and lot were hers. His wife was called up--for it
was now about midnight--a fire was made, some Indian meal was soon mixed
with salt and water, and an ash cake was baked in a hurry to relieve
my hunger. Sandy's wife was not behind him in kindness--both seemed to
esteem it a privilege to succor me; for, although I was hated by Covey
and by my master, I was loved by the colored people, because _they_
thought I was hated for my knowledge, and persecuted because I was
feared. I was the _only_ slave _now_ in that region who could read and
write. There had been o