Kemp's fields from ours, out ran Covey with
his cowskin, to give me another whipping. Before he could reach me, I
succeeded in getting to the cornfield; and as the corn was very high, it
afforded me the means of hiding. He seemed very angry, and searched for
me a long time. My behavior was altogether unaccountable. He finally
gave up the chase, thinking, I suppose, that I must come home for
something to eat; he would give himself no further trouble in looking
for me. I spent that day mostly in the woods, having the alternative
before me,--to go home and be whipped to death, or stay in the woods and
be starved to death. That night, I fell in with Sandy Jenkins, a slave
with whom I was somewhat acquainted. Sandy had a free wife who lived
about four miles from Mr. Covey's; and it being Saturday, he was on his
way to see her. I told him my circumstances, and he very kindly invited
me to go home with him. I went home with him, and talked this whole
matter over, and got his advice as to what course it was best for me to
pursue. I found Sandy an old adviser. He told me, with great solemnity,
I must go back to Covey; but that before I went, I must go with him into
another part of the woods, where there was a certain _root,_ which, if
I would take some of it with me, carrying it _always on my right side,_
would render it impossible for Mr. Covey, or any other white man, to
whip me. He said he had carried it for years; and since he had done so,
he had never received a blow, and never expected to while he carried it.
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