to, and they always let us by. They
knowed our marster would let us go 'thout passes.

"Us used to go to barn dances all the time. I never will forget the
fellow who played the fiddle for them dances. He had run away from his
marster seven years before. He lived in a cave he had dug in the ground.
He stayed in this cave all day and would come out at night. This cave
was in the swamp. He stole just 'bout everythin' he et. His marster had
been tryin' to catch him for a long time. Well they found out he was
playin' for these dances and one night us saw some strange lookin' men
come in but us didn't pay it much 'tention. Us always made a big oak
fire and thats where us got mos' of our light from. Well these men
danced with the girls a good while and after a while they started goin'
out one by one. Way after while they all came back in together, they had
washed the blackenin' off their faces, and us seen they was white. This
man had a song he would always sing. 'Fooled my marster seven
years--expect to fool him seven more.' So when these men came in they
went to him and told him maybe he had fooled 'em for seven years, but he
wouldn't fool 'em seven more. When they started to grab him he just
reached in the fire and got a piece of wood that was burnin' good on one
end and waved it all around (in a circle) until he set three of 'em on
fire. While they was puttin' this fire out he run out in the swamp and
back in his cave. They tried to catch him again. They painted their
faces and done just like they did the first time, but this time they
carried pistols. When they pulled their pistols on him he did just like
he did the first time, and they never did catch him. He stopped comin'
to play for the dances after they was straight after him. Dogs couldn't
trail him 'cause he kept his feet rubbed with onions.

"I have seen some marsters make their slaves walk in snow knee deep,
barefooted. Their heels would be cracked open jus' like corn bread.

"The only real mean thing they did to us when I was young was to sell my
father when our marster died. They sold him to somebody way off, and
they promised to bring him back to see us, but they never did. We always
wished he would come, but until this day us hasn't laid eyes on him
again. My mother worried 'bout him 'til she died.

"Chillun didn't know what shoes was 'til they was 'bout fifteen years
old. They would go a mile or a mile and a half in the snow for water
anytime, and the onl