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twice, then held up his hand, moaning, “No more! I’m plumb full!”
    He stayed at the cabin until it was so dark he had trouble finding his way back to Franklin’s. For a long time he lay awake thinking with a warm feeling of the friendliness of the black slaves, and wondering what it was like to be owned by someone. He thought of stories he’d heard in the Northabout slaves being beaten to death; then his thoughts drifted to Pet Winslow and how gentle she was. Finally he dozed off.
    The Winslows had just sat down to breakfast the next morning when the sound of an axe on wood floated into the room. Sky got up, walked to the window and peered out. “Well, I’ll be a—look at this, all of you!”
    Pet ran to him, followed by her brothers and her mother. “What is it, Papa?”
    “It’s that young Novak fellow. He’s cutting wood out there.”
    Rebekah watched the boy as he brought the axe down on a block of oak, cutting it cleanly in two. “He shouldn’t be doing that, Sky!” she protested.
    “I’ll go tell him to stop.” He hurried outside to the woodpile where Thad was lifting his axe. “Now, Thad, we can’t have this!”
    Thad dropped the axe, splitting the wood easily. “I’ve got to earn my keep.”
    “Plenty of time for that!”
    Thad shook his head stubbornly. “No, sir. If you won’t let me work, I’ll have to move on.”
    Winslow stared at the intent face, thinking, If all Yankees are as stubborn as this one, then heaven help the South! He reached out and took the axe from Thad, saying, “All right, you can work, but not splitting wood. We have to cut a lot of ice this week. You can help with that.”
    “Cut ice? What for, Mr. Winslow?”
    “Why, we cut it off the river and store it in our icehouse. Pack it with straw and it keeps through most of the summer. We sell it in Richmond, mostly. You go out with Toby tomorrow—but don’t overdo it.”
    “I’ll be careful, sir. I—I just can’t sit around and do nothing!”
    When Sky got back to the house, Tom asked, “What’s he doing, Pa?”
    “Says he has to earn his keep, Tom.”
    “He’s still a Yankee, though,” Dan insisted.
    Sky Winslow stared toward the woodyard, then said quietly, as if to himself, “I don’t think so, Dan. I don’t reckon he’s anything—not yet, anyway!”

CHAPTER FOUR
    CHRISTMAS GIFT
    The day following his talk with Mr. Winslow, Thad had risen at dawn and gone to the lake to cut ice with Toby in a wagon fitted with sled runners. As they prepared to get into the vehicle, Toby cautioned, “Now you listen to ol’ Toby. I didn’ pull you outta de snow to hep you kill yo’self cuttin’ ice. So you jes’ kinda set back and take it easy till you gits plumb well.” He grinned at Thad. “You know how to drive a team?”
    “Me? No, Toby.”
    “Well, git in an’ you can learn.” The two climbed up on the seat, and Toby gave him the lines. “Hold dis line like dat—an’ put dis ’un like dat. Now—jes’ say ‘Hup, Gyp!—Hup, Babe!’—an’ you see how easy it is.”
    Thad called out to the mules, and was delighted with the ease of the ride. He had been in a horse-drawn streetcar in New York once, but it could not compare to the joy of sweeping along the icy road with the green pines whipping by so fast they blurred in his sight. He called out again, and was a little alarmed when the sleek mules broke out into a dead run. “What do I do now, Toby?” he cried.
    “I guess you goes wif’ ’em, Thad!” Toby laughed. “Let ’em go. Mebby dey run some of dat meanness outta dere system!”
    Finally the mules slowed to a trot, and Thad began to look around at the landscape. “This sure is flat country, Toby.” As far as he could see there was no rise of ground higher than a five-foot knoll. The hardwoods that covered the horizon were bare, glistening with the casing of ice that loaded thesmaller branches to the ground. The tall evergreens farther back from the river were topped with massive