The speculator's camp was situated on the bank of the creek, and a very
bright scene it presented as Major Waldron and his party came up to it.
At a little distance from the main encampment was the speculator's tent,
and the tents for the negroes were dotted here and there among the
trees. Some of the women were washing at the creek, others were cooking,
and some were sitting in front of their tents sewing; numbers of little
negroes were playing about, and, altogether, the "speculator's camp" was
not the horrible thing that one might suppose.

The speculator, who was a jolly-looking man weighing over two hundred
pounds, came forward to meet Major Waldron and show him over the
encampment.

The negroes were well clothed, well fed, and the great majority of them
looked exceedingly happy.

They came across one group of boys and girls dancing and singing. An old
man, in another group, had collected a number of eager listeners around
him, and was recounting some marvellous tale; but occasionally there
would be a sad face and a tearful eye, and Mr. Waldron sighed as he
passed these, knowing that they were probably grieving over the home and
friends they had left.

As they came to one of the tents, the speculator said, "There is a sick
yellow woman in there, that I bought in Maryland. She had to be sold in
the settlement of an estate, and she has fretted herself almost to
death; she is in such bad health now that I doubt if anybody will buy
her, though she has a very likely little boy about two years old."

Mr. Waldron expressed a wish to see the woman, and they went in.