The slaves suffered more from the overseers' constant irritation.

Nothing was heard but threats from one side, and cries of grief from the other.

Those who marched in the last ranks treaded a soil that the first had stained with their blood.
Dick Sand's companions, always carefully kept in front of the convoy, could have no communication with him.

They advanced in file, the neck held in the heavy fork, which did not permit a single head-movement.
The whips did not spare them any more than their sad companions in misfortune.
Bat, coupled with his father, marched before him, taxing his ingenuity not to shake the fork, choosing the best places to step on, because old Tom must pass after him.

From time to time, when the overseer was a little behind, he uttered various words of encouragement, some of which reached Tom.