"Sammy will pull through," she said; "he wasn't born to die that way."

It is the slender constitution that bears the strain. "Sammy" did pull
through, and in a brief time was ready for fresh adventure.

There were plenty of these: there were the horses to ride to and from the
fields; the ox-wagons to ride in when they had dumped their heavy loads;
the circular horsepower to ride on when they threshed the wheat. This
last was a dangerous and forbidden pleasure, but the children would dart
between the teams and climb on, and the slave who was driving would
pretend not to see. Then in the evening when the black woman came along,
going after the cows, the children would race ahead and set the cows
running and jingling their bells--especially Little Sam, for he was a
wild-headed, impetuous child of sudden ecstasies that sent him capering
and swinging his arms, venting his emotions in a series of leaps and
shrieks and somersaults, and spasms of laughter as he lay rolling in the
grass.

His tendency to mischief grew with this wide liberty, improved health,
and the encouragement of John Quarles's good-natured, fun-loving slaves.

The negro quarters beyond the orchard were especially attractive. In one
cabin lived a bed-ridden, white-headed old woman whom the children
visited daily and looked upon with awe; for she was said to be a thousand
years old and to have talked with Moses. The negroes believed this; the
children, too, of course, and that she had lost her health in the desert,
coming out of Egypt. The bald spot on her head was caused by fright at
seeing Pharaoh drowned. She also knew how to avert spells and ward off
witches, which added greatly to her prestige. Uncle Dan'l was a
favorite, too-kind-hearted and dependable, while his occasional lockjaw