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At last the weary journey was over. Legree and his slaves landed. His house was a long way from the river. The men slaves walked, while Legree and the two women drove in a cart.

Mile after mile they trudged along, over the rough road through wild and dreary country, till, hungry, thirsty, and tired, they arrived at the farm, or plantation as it was called.

Legree was not a gentleman like Mr. Shelby or Mr. St. Clare. He was a very rough kind of farmer. On his farm he grew cotton. The cotton had to be gathered and tied into bundles. Then he sold it to people who made it into calico, muslin, and other things, which we need to use and wear. Gathering cotton is very hard work.

The house Legree lived in had once been a very fine one, and had belonged to a rich gentleman. Now, it was old, neglected, and almost in ruins.

The house was bad enough, but the cabins where the slaves lived were far worse. They were roughly built of wood. The wind and the rain came through the chinks between the planks. There were no windows. The floors were nothing but the bare earth. There was no furniture of any kind in them, only heaps of dirty straw to sleep upon.

Uncle Tom felt more unhappy than ever. He had hoped at least to have a little room which he could keep clean and tidy. But this hole he did not even have to himself. He had to share it with five or six others.

Now began the saddest time of Uncle Tom’s life. Every morning very early the slaves were driven out into the fields like cattle. All day long they worked hard. The burning sun blazed down upon them, making them hot and tired. Legree and his two chief slaves, called Quimbo and Sambo, marched about all the time with whips in their hands. At night they drove the slaves back again to their miserable huts.

But before they could rest, they had to grind and cook the corn for their supper. When at last they did go to sleep, they had to lie on the heaps of dirty straw instead of in comfortable beds.

CHAPTER XVIII

GEORGE AND ELIZA FIND FREEDOM

Tom Loker lay tossing and tumbling in his clean, comfortable bed at the Quaker farmhouse. A pretty, old Quaker lady, with white hair and a kind face, was nursing him. Tom Loker did not like being ill and having to lie in bed. He threw the clothes about, grumbling and using naughty words all the tune.

‘I must ask thee, Thomas Loker, not to use such language,’ said the nice lady, as she smoothed his sheets, and made his bed comfortable again for him.

‘Well, I won’t, granny, if I can help it,’ he replied; ‘but it is enough to make a fellow swear, it is so awfully hot.’ He gave another great lunge, and made the sheets and blankets all untidy again.

‘I suppose that fellow George and the girl Eliza are here,’ he said, in a sulky voice, after a few minutes’ silence.

‘Yes, they are,’ said the old lady.

‘They had better get away across the lake,’ said Tom Loker, ‘the quicker the better.’

‘Very likely they will do so,’ said the old lady, calmly going on with her knitting.

‘But, listen,’ said Tom Loker, getting excited, ‘there are people who are watching the boats for us. I don’t care if I tell now. I hope they will get away, just to spite the others for going and leaving me as they did–the mean puppies, the–‘

‘Thomas Loker!’ said the old lady.

‘I tell you, granny, if you bottle a fellow up too tight he’ll split,’ said Tom Loker. ‘But about Eliza–tell them to dress her up some way so as to alter her. We have sent a description of what she looks like to the town where the boats start from. She will be caught yet if she doesn’t dress up differently.’