sufficiently worked up, shrewdly spilled the first spoonful of powder
leading to his mine. “Oonuh nigguh, one buckruh binnuh talk ’puntop
de flatfawm to W’ite Hall deepo dis mawnin’, en’ uh yeddy’um tell dem
torruh buckruh suh one sukkus hab uh acksident to Orangebu’g, en’ one
lion git out ’e cage en’ run een de swamp en’ gone, en’ de buckruh try
fuh ketch’um but dem ’f’aid fuh gone een de swamp, en’ dem sen’ dem dog
attuhr’um, en’ de lion kill t’irteen beagle one time!”
“Oh Jedus!” cried an excited woman, “Uh berry ’f’aid da’ t’ing gwine
come Cumbee! Hummuch mile Orangebu’g stan’ f’um yuh?”
“Uh dunno hummuch mile,” Monday replied, “but uh know lion kin mek’um
’tween middlenight en’ dayclean, en’ ef uh ebbuh yeddy ’e woice roll
een dish’yuh swamp, meself gwine git een me trus’me’gawd coonoo en’ uh
fuh gone down Cumbee ribbuh, en’ uh nebbuh stop paddle ’tell uh git
Beefu’t!”
A week passed. Like the waves from a stone thrown into still waters,
the lion stories spread among the outlying plantations in all
directions. Saturday night found Monday early at the store. Another
convenient buckra at White Hall station had told that morning of the
lion’s escape from the Edisto and his crossing over the intervening
pinelands into the Salkehatchie Swamp and, as most people know, the
Salkehatchie River, below the line of the Charleston and Savannah
railway, becomes the Combahee. The lion was loose, therefore, in their
own proper swamp, and might even now be riding a floating log down the
current of their beloved river!
Monday stealthily slipped out. An hour later, when the negroes in and
about the store had worked themselves up to a delectable pitch of
excitement, an unearthly groaning roar came from the woods nearby. The
night was hot, but the negroes almost froze with fear, and the clerk,
in whom Monday had confided, raised no objection when the negroes
within the store called in their companions from the outside and asked
permission to bar the door.
“Oonuh yeddy’um, enty! Wuh uh tell you ’bout da’ t’ing’ woice?” said
the negro who had seen lions in Walterboro.
Monday’s “Devil’s Fiddle” groaned again, and as its dying notes
trembled on the summer night, a rush was made to close and bolt the
windows. The kerosene lamps smoked and flared in the fetid air. The men
listened and shuddered as the recurrent roars, now muffled, reached
their expectant ears. The women wailed. “O Gawd! uh lef’ me t’ree
chillun shet up een me house,” cried one. “Uh ’spec’ da’ t’ing done
nyam’um all by dis time!”
“Shet yo’ mout’, ’ooman,” said a masculine comforter. “Hukkuh him kin
eat en’ holluh alltwo one time? Yo’ chillun ent fuh eat.”
“Me lef’ my juntlemun een de house,” said another woman, with
resignation, “Uh ’spec’ him done eat.”
“Wuh you duh bodduh ’bout loss uh man?” said the mother. “Man easy fuh
git tummuch. Me yent duh bodduh ’bout man. Uh kin git anodduh juntlemun
ef da’ t’ing nyam my’own, but weh uh fuh git mo’ chillun?”
“Go’way, gal, ef you kin fuh git anodduh juntlemun, same fashi’n Gawd
help you fuh git anodduh chillun.”
After a while the roaring ceased and the clerk, being perilously near
suffocation, calmed the fears of the negroes and opened the windows.
The trembling darkeys cocked their ears and listened apprehensively,
but the shrilling of the Cicada among the pines and the bellowing of
the bullfrogs in the distant canals were the only sounds that broke
the silence of the night so recently full of terrors. After awhile
the door also was unbarred and opened, and a bold man borrowed an
axe from the storekeeper and adventured far enough to cut some slabs
of lightwood from a familiar stump. The hero added to his popularity
by splitting these up and distributing them among the members of the
gentler sex, whose escorts lighted torches and convoyed them in a body
back to the quarters, where the children and husbands whom they left at
home were found intact.
At church on Sunday, the Lewisburg negroes spread among their brethren
from the other plantations the news of the coming of the lion, and the
“locus pastuh” fervently touched upon the king of beasts. “Puhtec’ we,
Maussuh Jedus, f’um da’ t’ing oonuh call lion. Lead’um, Lawd, to weh
de buckruh’ cow en’ t’ing’ duh bite grass so him kin full ’e belly
bedout haffuh nyam nigguh, en’ ef ’e _yiz_ haffuh tek nigguh fuh ’e
bittle, do, Lawd, mek’um fuh tek dem sinful nigguh wuh ent wut, en’
lef’ de Lawd’ renointed. Mek’um fuh do wid de good sistuh en’ bredduh
’puntop dis plantesshun same lukkuh oonuh mek’um fuh do long Dannil--”
“Yaas, Lawd,” shouted Monday, the hypocrite, “ef ’e _yiz_ fuh eat
nigguh, mek’um fuh eat dem nigguh ’puntop’uh Bonny Hall ’cross de
ribbuh, en’ tek ’e woice out’uh we pinelan’.” “Yaas, Lawd!” “Please
suh fuh do’um, Lawd!” shouted the fervent brethren and sisters. And
stealthily, about two hours after dark that night, while the emotional
negroes were alternately laughing, shouting and praying, Monday put
his Devil’s Fiddle into a sack, slipped into his canoe, and, crossing
to the opposite shore of the river, roared frightfully along the Bonny
Hall water line, terrifying the negroes on that plantation and filling
the Lewisburg darkeys with thankfulness that their prayers had been
answered.
Another week passed. Monday, playing with them as a cat plays with a
mouse, kept quiet, until by Saturday night, no news having come of any
damage at Bonny Hall, the Lewisburg negroes hoped that the lion had
been captured by “de sukkus buckruh,” or had left the neighborhood, and
soon after nightfall, half the plantation gathered at the store.
About nine o’clock, when the store was jammed with briskly trading
negroes, from afar in the woods came the ominous roar of the hand-made
lion. It was distant, and the negroes, while badly frightened, stood
their ground to await developments, but a few minutes later the awful
sound came again from a nearer point, and by the time the roaring
had come within a quarter of a mile of the place, the negroes were
panic-stricken, and most of them hurried from the store and ran to
the quarters, where they bolted themselves in, to pass a night in
fear and trembling, for at intervals until past midnight, their
ears carried terror to their souls. On Sunday, Monday, wearing the
sanctimonious expression of a cat that has just swallowed the canary,
moved among them, listening with sympathetic ears to the tales of
perilous adventures that some of them had experienced. “Bredduh W’ite,”
said a church sister, “lemme tell you. Las’ night uh gone to Sistuh
Bulow’ house attuh daa’k. Uh did’n’ bin to de sto’, ’cause las’ week
de buckruh credik me, en’ uh ’f’aid ’e gwine ax’me fuh pay’um wuh
uh owe’um, en’ uh gi’ Sistuh Bulow de money fuh buy me rashi’n’ en’
t’ing’, en’ uh seddown een ’e yaa’d fuh wait ’tell ’e come back. Him
house ent dey een nigguhhouse yaa’d, ’e stan’ to ’eself ’pun de aige
uh de pinelan’. Bumby uh yeddy da’ t’ing’ woice. W’en uh yeddy’um fus’,
’e bin fudduh, en’ uh t’awt ’e bin Jackass duh holluh, but w’en ’e
git close, uh ruckuhnize ’e woice, en’ uh know ’e duh lion. Uh _dat_
’f’aid, uh cyan’ talk. Uh trimble sukkuh mule’ shoulduh duh shake off
cowfly. W’en da’ t’ing come t’ru de bush en’ look ’puntop me, me two
eye’ pop’ out me head! ’E stan’ high mo’nuh Mass Clinch’ mule. ’E
yeye shine lukkuh dem fiah buckruh does mek ’puntop’uh Jackstan’ duh
pinelan’ duh summuhtime fuh keep off muskittuh! W’en ’e op’n ’e jaw,
’e t’roat red lukkuh beef haslett! ’E mout’ full’up wid teet’ sukkuh
harruh, en’ blood duh drip out ’e jaw sukkuh water drap outuh nigguh
mout’ w’en ’e look ’puntop’uh watuhmilyun! W’en uh shum stan’ so, uh
drap’ ’puntop me two knee’ en’ uh baig’ me Jedus fuh sabe me! Uh dat
’f’aid, uh shet me yeye’, en’ w’en uh done pray en’ op’n’um’ ’gen, de
t’ing gone!” And so on, each tale of dreadful experience told by one
negro, being over-matched by the next, who, if one gave “free rein”
to her imagination, would be sure to strip the bridle off her’s and
throw it away. “Meself shum,” related a 20th Century Munchausen in
petticoats. “Uh bin down de road uh piece ’bout two hour’ attuh daa’k
fuh try fuh ketch da’ gal, ’cause uh kinduh ’spishun my juntlemun, en’
uh binnuh folluh ’e track fuh ketch’um, but uh nebbuh ketch’um yet,
but uh gwine fuh ketch’um, ’cause uh got me yeye ’puntop da’ gal f’um
W’ite Hall wuh tote dem bottle en’ t’ing onduhneet’ ’e frock fuh sell
rum to all dese man eb’ry Satt’d’y night, en’ mek’um fuh t’row ’way dem
money ’stead’uh g’em to dem wife en’ t’ing’, en’ uh bin swif’ ’pun da’
gal track, ’cause yistidd’y w’en my juntlemun git pay’off fuh ’e wu’k,
’e come en’ pit half ’e money een me han’ befo’ uh kin ax’um fuhr’um,
en’ da’ t’ing mek me fuh know him duh fool me. Uh look ’puntop’um en’
uh shum duh grin. Sattifaction duh run roun’ da’ nigguh mout’ same
lukkuh puppy run roun’ de yaa’d attuh ’e own tail! Uh know man tummuch,
en’ w’en ’e stan’ so, ’e yent fuh trus’! Eb’ry time man gi’ money to
’e lawfully lady, ’e h’aa’t duh cry, en’ w’en him look lukkuh ’e glad
fuh g’em, ’e face duh lie, ’e try fuh kibbuh up ’e h’aa’t, en’ ’e done
mek’up ’e min’ fuh fool’um, but me! uh got uh ecknowledge fuh look
t’ru ’e face, en’ w’en uh look ’puntop ’e h’aa’t, ’e stan’ crookety ez
uh cowpaat’! Da’ gal kin fool some dem todduh ’ooman, but ’e yent fuh
fool me! Him hab two petticoat’, one mek out’uh homespun clawt’, lukkuh
we’own, en’ todduh one hab skollup’, lukkuh buckruh lady’ own. W’en him
hab on de clawt’ petticoat, none de man nebbuh bodduhr’um, but w’en
’e walk t’ru Lewisbu’g nigguhhouse yaa’d wid da’ skollup’ petticoat
staa’ch’ _stiff_, en’ ’e frock hice up high fuh show’um, en’ dem man
look ’puntop de skollup en’ yeddy de staa’ch duh talk ‘_she, she, she_’
w’en ’e walk, dem _know_ suh ’e got rum fuh sell--dat duh ’e sign--dem
t’roat’ biggin fuh dry, en’ dem eb’ry Gawd’ one pick uh chance fuh
folluhr’um, but dem todduh ’ooman, dem t’ink suh man lub da’ skollup’
t’ing ’cause ’e stylish, en’ dem study ’bout git skollup’ petticoat
demself fuh mek man fuh folluhr’um, but duh nutt’n’ but de pyo’ rum dem
man dey attuh. Dem fuh folluh da’ gal ef ’e petticoat mek out’uh grano
sack!
“W’en uh did’n’ ketch de gal, uh staa’t’ fuh gone home, en’ uh look
’way off t’ru de pinelan’ en’ uh see two t’ing duh shine sukkuh injine
headlight! Uh look ’gen, ’e come close, en’ uh see ’e duh annimel eye!
Bumby ’e op’n’ ’e mout’ fuh holluh. Spaa’k’ duh come outuhr’um en’ ’e
woice roll ’tell de groun’ shake. Uh nebbuh hab no time fuh pray. W’en
uh see da’ fiah come out ’e mout’, uh tell’um, ‘so long, bubbuh, _uh
gone_!’ en’ uh hice me ’coat en’ uh tek me two foot een me han’ en’ uh
nebbuh study ’bout no road. Uh gone slam t’ru de bush! Brian ’cratch’
me, uh dunkyuh. Jackwine’ ketch’ me foot en’ obuht’row me, uh jump up,
uh gone ’gen! One harricane tree bin ’cross de paat’, uh bus’ t’ru’um
sukkuh fiah gone t’ru broom grass fiel’. Nutt’n’ nebbuh stop me,
’cause, bubbuh, _uh run_! W’en uh git een de big road, uh hog binnuh
leddown fuh tek ’e res’. Wen ’e yeddy me foot duh beat groun’, ’e jump
up fuh run, but uh obuhtek’um dat swif’, me foot kick’um ez uh gwine,
en’ uh yeddy’um holluh behin’ me sukkuh tarrier duh graff’um by ’e yez!
Briah tayre off me frock ’tell, time uh git nigguhhouse yaa’d, uh yent
hab nutt’n’ lef’ but me shimmy, en’ w’en dem nigguh look ’puntop me dem
t’ink uh sperrit come out de ’ood. Uh run een me house, uh shet me do’,
en’ uh nebbuh come out ’gen ’tell sunhigh!”
Monday inclined his ear and listened to the negroes, but he showed
them no mercy, and before the end of the third week his lion became
so bold that a roar came even in broad daylight from among the reeds
along the river bank, frightening the laborers out of the fields and
even prompting a neighboring planter to order his foreman to lock up
the mules for safety when he saw the hands flying in terror from the
ricefields! At last, to avoid industrial paralysis, the owner of the
plantation, discovering Monday’s plot, suppressed the powder keg lion.
And the master saved his people, the Halcyon nested again on the waves
of the Combahee, bringing peaceful days and peaceful ways to the
Lewisburg plantation, with nothing more exciting than the quest of “da’
skollup’ petticoat,” but--“that’s another story.”
THE LION KILLER
The lion of Lewisburg was dead. By order of former Governor Duncan
Clinch Heyward, the Devil’s Fiddle with which Monday White,
yellow-skinned plantation practical joker, had terrorized the negroes
of the neighborhood for three weeks, had been hidden away, and the
groaning roar of the powder keg lion was no longer heard in the land.
Monday, the clerk at the store and the master of the plantation,
guarded the secret carefully and the negroes, who no longer heard
the terrible voice echoing through the woods at night, or along the
reeds by the river, believed that the lion, exorcised by the spirit of
prayer, had departed from among them and gone to some less regenerate
community. Those who had told marvelous tales of the fierce creature
whose flaming eyes had burned into their souls, whose bloody jaws had
frozen them with fright, told and retold with elaboration and close
attention to detail,--and finally themselves believed, the first told
stories of their encounters with the monster. Some of those who had
had no personal experience with the lion of Lewisburg believed only
part of the oft told tales. Others were frankly skeptical, for, while
practically all of them believed in the lion, few were willing to yield
to the story-tellers the prestige of having come unscathed through such
perilous adventures. These stories are always liberally discounted
among the negroes, however. At a “baptizing” on the Combahee, the big
black pastor had doused in the canal one after another of the “seeking”
sisters. They emerged from the turbid waters gurgling and choking, but
all were too full of water, or the spirit, for utterance. At last one
lusty wench with better breath control than the others came up smiling,
and with wind enough for speech. “Oh Jedus!” she yelled, determined to
create a sensation, “uh see Gawd onduhneet’ de water! Uh fin’ me Gawd.
_’E look ’puntop me!_”
“You lie!” said the envious sister who had just preceded her, “_’tis
cootuh!_ Enty I shum?”
Gradually the negroes recovered their confidence, and resumed their
nocturnal rambles, visiting from one plantation to another, but they
usually went in small companies and seldom adventured alone, save
when some bibulous man, glimpsing the “skollup’ petticoat” of the
peripatetic bootlegger from White Hall as she swished her starched
symbol through the Lewisburg quarters on Saturday nights, followed with
parched tongue and arid throat to some convenient spot where coin could
be exchanged for contraband.
In some way it was generally understood that, supplementing the
plantation prayers, “Mass Clinch,” through personal magnetism or
the exercise of some former-gubernatorial authority, had had a
great deal to do with speeding the going leonine guest. This rumor
traveled by grapevine thirty-odd miles from Combahee to Adams Run,
the abiding place of Joe Fields, the former governor’s former slave,
whose confidence in “Maussuh’s” powers of accomplishment, equalled
the Mohammedan belief in the esteemed Prophet’s ability to stock the
Hereafter with Houris. It was true that “Maussuh” had commanded the
roaring to cease--and it did, but Joe’s imagination insisted upon
supplying all the “corroborative detail.”
Joe foregathered with some of his friends at the railway station,
for things were not going pleasantly at home. His wife Philippa was
one of those hard-working, aggravating creatures who, by her very
industry and self-abnegation, forced upon the lordly loafer by whom
she was husbanded a sense of his own inferiority. Philippa worked out
among the white people, cooking and washing and scrubbing, while Joe
rode about on a mortgaged horse or ox and boasted as a Sir Oracle at
the Cross Roads or the station. Philippa was always willing to feed
Joe, but she was none the less ready to season his food with the sauce
of her tongue, and whenever she came home, her sense of duty urged
her to remind Joe of his shortcomings. Once a fighter, hard work and
scanty food had worn her body and somewhat broken her spirit, and
she no longer thrashed her grown daughter Christopher Columbus as
she once did, “jes’ ’cause ’e look lukkuh ’e pa,” but Joe, having to
take the sauce with the meat, seldom wasted time in replying that he
could utilize in eating, and thus the more speedily put himself out of
earshot. Once away among his cronies, however, he expressed himself
boldly and truculently. “Da’ ’ooman keep on fuh onrabble ’e mout’ ’tell
uh w’ary fuh yeddy’um. ’E stan’ sukkuh briah patch w’en blackberry
ripe. ’E gi’ you bittle fuh eat, but ’e ’cratch you w’ile you duh
eat’um! Him iz uh fait’ful ’ooman fuh true, en’ ’e lub fuh wu’k, but
w’en him dey home, uh yent fuh hab no peace. Seem lukkuh nutt’n’ wuh uh
do nebbuh suit’um. Ef uh seddown een me rockin’ cheer duh fiah fuh tek
me res’ w’ile uh duh nyam me bittle, ’e fau’t me fuh dat. Same fashi’n
ef uh git ’puntop me oxin fuh ride to de Cross Road, oonuh kin yeddy’um
talk ’bout uh lazy man ent wut!”
“’E ebbuh fau’t you w’en you got axe, eeduhso hoe een yo’ han’?”
“Who, me? _Me_ fuh hab hoe een me han’? No, suh! Maussuh’ nigguh ent
fuh hol’ hoe! Wuffuh me haffuh hol’ hoe w’en uh hab po’buckruh nigguh
fuh wife? _Him_ fuh hol’ hoe! Philpuh’ maussuh duh po’ buckruh f’um
town. Him binnuh bake bread ebbuh sence slabery time. Wuh him ebbuh do?
_Him_ ebbuh kill lion?”
“_Kill lion!_ Wuh you duh talk ’bout nigguh? Whoebbuh you ebbuh yeddy
kin kill lion?”
“My maussuh fuh kill’um!”
“Go’way, Joe! You duh dream. Een de fus’ place, no lion ent fuh dey een
dis country, een de two place, you ent got no maussuh, en’ een de t’ree
place, ef you iz bin hab maussuh, him ent able fuh kill no lion.”
“Me yent hab no maussuh! Enty you know suh uh nyuse to blonx to Mass
Clinch Heywu’d to Lewisbu’g plantesshun ’puntop Cumbee? Oonuh eegnunt
nigguh’, oonuh yent know suh him hab t’ree t’ous’n’ acre’ rice en’
mo’nuh t’ree t’ous’n’ nigguh’ en’ mule en’ t’ing’? Oonuh nebbuh yeddy
’bout da’ lion wuh git’way f’um de sukkus to Orangebu’g todduh day
en’ gone down Sawlketchuh swamp ’tell ’e git Cumbee, en’ ’e run all
Maussuh’ nigguh’ out ’e fiel’ en’ ’e mek Maussuh’ ob’shay, Mistuh
Jokok, fuh climb tree?”
“Nobody nebbuh yeddy ’bout’um, Joe, en’ _you_ nebbuh yeddy ’bout’um.
Hukkuh you fuh yeddy ’bout’um? You bin Cumbee?”
“Uh yent bin no Cumbee, but uh got uh tittie lib on Maussuh’ place
Cumbee, dat how uh yeddy ’bout’um.”
“Wuh yo’ tittie tell you, Joe?”
“W’en de lion git’way out de sukkus ’e gone spang f’um Orangebu’g to
Sawlketchuh swamp en’ ’e nebbuh stop ’tell ’e git Lewisbu’g!”
“Wuffuh him haffuh stop Lewisbu’g, Joe?”
“Enty you know suh Maussuh’ nigguh’ fat? Maussuh’ nigguh’ fat fuh sowl!
Lion hab sense ’nuf fuh know fat nigguh w’en ’e shum, en’ him kin smell
_fat_ nigguh mo’ fudduh den him kin smell _po’_ nigguh, en’ Maussuh mek
shishuh hebby crap uh rice en’ ’tettuh en’ t’ing dat him nigguh’ fat
mo’nuh all dem todduh nigguh’ ’puntop Cumbee ribbuh!
“Soon ez de lion git Lewisbu’g, ’e stop. ’E know suh him bittle dey
dey, en’ ’e mout’ biggin fuh run water. Bumbye duh night-time, ’e woice
roll een Maussuh’ pinelan’ en’ all dem nigguh’ tarrify’ sukkuh chickin
tarrify’ w’en fu’lhawk’ wing t’row shadduh obuhr’um! Dem nigguh’ ’f’aid
’tell dem fool! Dem lock demself een dem house duh night, en’, alldo’
’e duh summuhtime, dem mek fiah fuh bu’n so de lion cyan’ come down
de chimbly. W’en de lion cyan’ git no nigguh’ fuh eat ’cause dem all
lock’up, ’e gone duh ’ood en’ meet uh cow en’ ’e kill _him_ fuh ’e
bittle. W’en ’e done nyam de t’ree cow--”
“_T’ree cow!_ Joe, hukkuh him kin eat t’ree cow’ w’en ’e only kill one?”
“Him nyam t’ree cow’, enty? Him kin nyam’um uh dunkyuh ef ’e yent dead.
You ebbuh see lion? Wuh Pon Pon nigguh know ’bout lion? Seem lukkuh
w’en ’e done nyam dem t’ree cow’, ’e jis’ mek’um fuh hongry good, en’
’e gone back nigguhhouse yaa’d fuh see ef him kin git uh chance fuh
nyam nigguh’. ’E walk up en’ down, ’e t’rash’ ’e tail, ’e gnash’ ’e
teet’ en’ ’e holluh sukkuh jackass en’ alligettuh en’ bull all t’ree
one time! You kin yeddy dem nigguh’ een dem house duh pray. Dem eb’ry
Gawd’ one prommus dem Jedus fuh folluh Him wu’d, ef ’e only spayre dem
life. One tell’um suh ef Him tek de lion’ jaw off’um, him nebbuh t’ief
Maussuh’ rice no mo’, en’ eb’ry one tell de Lawd ’bout some uh dem
light sin wuh dem willin’ fuh t’row’way ef dem life sabe.”
“Light sin! Mekso dem ent prommus fuh t’row’way dem hebby sin?”
“No, man, dem ent fuh t’row’way dem hebby sin, uh dunkyuh ef lion crack
dem bone’. Een slabery time nigguh baig ’e maussuh’ paa’d’n fuh t’ief
’e fowl w’en ’e git ketch, but w’en ’e kill _cow_, ’e nebbuh crack ’e
teet’, en’ eb’n so ef ’e maussuh ketch’um duh skin de cow, him fuh tell
’e maussuh ’e fin’um dead een de ’ood, en’ ’e duh skin’um fuh tek de
hide to ’e maussuh fuh sabe’um f’um buzzut! No, man; oonuh fuh hol’
oonuh hebby sin sukkuh sheep buhr hol’ mule’ tail, ’tell Gabrull blow
’e hawn en’ de Lawd tek’um off!”
“Bumbye w’en dayclean en’ de lion nebbuh git no nigguh, ’e gone en’
kill fo’ mo’ cow’, en’ w’en ’e done nyam’um ’e gone duh ’ood en’
leddown fuh tek ’e res’, en’ nobody nebbuh yeddy’um ’gen ’tell Sat’d’y
night come. All t’ru de week de nigguh’ swonguh en’ sattify een dem
min’ ’cause dem t’ink suh dem pray’ mek de lion fuh gone’way en’
le’m’lone, but ’e yent duh no pray’ mek’um fuh gone, duh dem fo’ cow’
wuh ’e nyam, mek’ ’e belly full ’tell ’e yent hab no room fuh nigguh!”
“W’en Sat’d’y night come, de lion holluh ’gen en’ all de nigguh’ run
out de sto’ en’ gone een dem house fuh hide. Monday come, en’ de
nigguh’ ’f’aid fuh gone een Maussuh’ fiel’ fuh wu’k. Mistuh Jokok dunno
wuh fuh do. Him sen’ uh ansuh to Cuhlumbia fuh tell Maussuh ’cep’n’ him
come Lewisbu’g, all him nigguh’ fuh eat. Maussuh ride de train. ’E
come. ’E git off W’ite Hall deepo, ’e git ’pun ’e hawss, ’e tu’n to ’e
ob’shay, ’Jokok,’ ’e say, ‘Weh da’ annimel fuh hide? Lemme shum!’”
“Mistuh Jokok tell’um de las’ time dem yeddy ’e woice, ’e bin een de
t’icket en’ reed en’ t’ing by de ribbuh bank. Maussuh nebbuh wait fuh
yeddy no’ mo’. ’E snatch ’e rifle out’uh Mistuh Jokok’ han’, ’e jam
’e two spuhr een e’ hawss’ belly, ’e hawss jump’ nine foot off de
groun’ een de ellyment, en’ ’e gone! Maussuh run ’e hawss ’tell ’e git
’cross de causeway ’pun de ribbuh bank, den ’e biggin fuh ride slow
en’ t’row ’e yeye befor’um fuh see weh da’ t’ing fuh hide. W’en ’e git
close de briah en’ t’ing, ’e hawss cock’ ’e yez befor’um, ’e snawt’
en’ ’e ’tan’up ’trait ’pun ’e hine foot. W’en ’e do dat, Maussuh know
suh de lion dey een dem bush! De hawss come down ’pun ’e fo’ foot. ’E
duh shake sukkuh rice t’rasher shake. Maussuh yeddy sump’nurruh duh
groan een de t’icket. Bumbye de lion come out. W’en ’e op’n’ ’e mout’
’e teet’ long sukkuh cawncob! Maussuh t’row ’e rifle to ’e yeye. ’E
only hab one ball een’um en’ ’e know suh ef him ent kill da’ t’ing
_dead_, da’ lion fuh nyam him en’ ’e hawss alltwo. Maussuh tek aim at
’e t’roat. ’E cut loose, ‘_bam!_’ W’en de gun crack, ’e look! De lion’
head roll down de bank ’tell ’e fall een de ditch! Maussuh cantuh up to
Lewisbu’g. ’E tell Mistuh Jokok fuh sen’ uh waagin en’ fo’ mule’ fuh
fetch’um to de yaa’d. Dem medjuhr’um en’ ’e stan’ t’irteen foot long!
W’en de nigguh’ yeddy suh ’e dead, dem stop wu’k en’ dem fuh mek fiah
en’ shout roun’ da’ lion de Gawd’ night! Bumbye buckruh’ come fuh look
’puntop’um en’ w’en dem yeddy suh ’e seb’nteen foot long, dem ’stonish!”
“Yaas, uh ’spec’ nigguh’ en’ buckruh’ alltwo fuh ’stonish ef dem kin
yeddy you fuh tell’um, Joe. Da’ lion duh git mo’ longuh! W’ile ago you
bin fuh mek’um t’irteen foot long.”
“Fus’ time dem medjuhr’um ’e yent bin hab no head. Enty ’e fuh medjuh
mo’ attuh dem tie ’e head back ’pun ’e neck weh Maussuh’ ball cut’um
off? Oonuh mus’be fool!”
“Joe,” said another doubting crony, “hukkuh da’ leely ball kin fuh cut
off da’ lion’ head? ’E tek soad, eeduhso axe, fuh do da’ t’ing?”
“Who’ Maussuh kill da lion! Duh yo’ Maussuh, enty? Enty uh tell oonuh
eegnunt nigguh’ suh de hawss skayre ’tell ’e shake, en’, same time
Maussuh pull’ ’e trigguh, de hawss trimble’ ’tell ’e mek da’ ball fuh
wabble ‘cross de lion’ neck ’tell _’e cut ’e t’roat f’um yez to yez_!”
“OLD BARNEY”
Old Friday Giles was the English purist of Penny Creek. A former
“driver” and slave of Mr. Edward Barnwell, his manners were pompous,
though ingratiating. His speech was unusually good save for his
ludicrous use of “she” and “her” for all things singular, animate or
inanimate.