Bill answered that I was sick, and there was no
one to bring wheat to the fan. I had by this time crawled away under the
side of the post and rail-fence by which the yard was enclosed, hoping
to find relief by getting out of the sun. He then asked where I was. He
was told by one of the hands. He came to the spot, and, after looking at
me awhile, asked me what was the matter. I told him as well as I could,
for I scarce had strength to speak. He then gave me a savage kick in
the side, and told me to get up. I tried to do so, but fell back in the
attempt. He gave me another kick, and again told me to rise. I again
tried, and succeeded in gaining my feet; but, stooping to get the tub
with which I was feeding the fan, I again staggered and fell. While down
in this situation, Mr. Covey took up the hickory slat with which Hughes
had been striking off the half-bushel measure, and with it gave me
a heavy blow upon the head, making a large wound, and the blood ran
freely; and with this again told me to get up. I made no effort to
comply, having now made up my mind to let him do his worst. In a short
time after receiving this blow, my head grew better. Mr. Covey had now
left me to my fate. At this moment I resolved, for the first time, to go
to my master, enter a complaint, and ask his protection. In order to
do this, I must that afternoon walk seven miles; and this, under the
circumstances, was truly a severe undertaking. I was exceedingly feeble;
made so as much by the kicks and blows which I received, as by the
severe fit of sickness to which I had been subjected.
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