or four yellow men double-team a black man and beat him up. He doesn’t
take them to court but waits his chance, and when he catches one of
these yellow men away from his gang, why the black man beats him to pay
him back for what the yellow man helped to do to him. Now, that’s what
Paul did to this free-issue yellow fellow Grant. Paul is black like all
of you. Do you want to send him to jail for laying hands on a mulatto,
just because mulattoes think themselves better than you blacks?”
“Great Gawd, _no, suh_!” shouted Manigo, springing up. Turning half
way round out of respect to the foreman, he alternately jumped in the
air and squatted like a gigantic frog, while he whirled his arms and
harangued his fellow blacks, cutting his eye around now and then for
a nod of approval from Iago. “De debble! Punkin-skin’ nigguh fuh beat
black nigguh en’ black nigguh ent fuh beat’um back, enty? Oonuh ebbuh
yeddy ’bout shishuh t’ing sence you bawn? Me fuh ’low yalluh nigguh
fuh knock me en’ me yent fuh knock’um back! No, man! Uh knock’um ef uh
dead!”
“Yaas, man, _knock’um, knock’um_!” came the cries of approval as old
Hacklus, having put up his yellow man of straw, leaped about as he
proceeded to bowl him over.
“Uh yent fuh wait ’tell ’e knock me fus’. Uh gwine knock’um befo’ ’e
hice ’e han’! Uh knock’um een ’e yeye, uh kick’um on ’e shin, alltwo
one time. Den uh butt’um een ’e belly. Uh double’um up ’cause ’e too
swonguh, ’e too ’laagin’! Cap’n, who dis yalluh nigguh nyuse to blonx
to een slabery time?” he asked the foreman.
“To nobody. He was free. He belonged to himself.”
“Great Gawd! Cap’n, all dese’yuh mans blonx to quality! All uh we yuh
nyuse to blonx to Baa’nwell, eeduhso Heywu’d en’ Wandross. All duh
juntlemun’ nigguh. Nigguh stan’ sukkuh ’e maussuh. Ef ’e blonx to
juntlemun, him gwine mannusubble, ef ’e blonx to po’buckruh, him ent
nutt’n’, ’cause uh po’buckruh nigguh _ent wut_, but ef ’e blonx to
’eself, ’e blonx to nigguh, en’ da’ yalluh t’ing wuh blonx to nigguh
tek ’t’oruhty ’puntop ’eself fuh knock nigguh wuh blonx to juntlemun,
en bex w’en de nigguh knock’um back! No, suh, ’e mus’ be fool! Leh we
tu’n Bredduh Paul loose!”
“Yaas, man, _tu’n’um loose, tu’n’um loose_!” came the chorus.
“Well, boys, before we go, you’d better finish the flask.”
“_Tengk Gawd, suh!_” ejaculated old Hacklus whose mouth was now as
cottony as a stump-tailed water moccasin’s, as he lifted the flask to
his lips, “me t’roat dry. Uh binnuh talk.”
“_Hol’ on, man!_”
“_Don’ tek’um all!_”
“Manigo drink’ too hebby!”
“’E gwine dreen’um dry!” came the protests, but Manigo had swallowed
the lion’s share before he passed the flask to the next man. “Boss, we
fuh pit da’ yalluh Grant een jail, enty?” and he was much disappointed
when told it couldn’t be done.
The jury returned to the Court room with their verdict of acquittal,
and received the thanks of the Court, who assured them all, “and
especially the distinguished foreman,” of his appreciation of the
expedition with which they had dispatched the business of the Court.
As Paul and his protector mounted their horses for the homeward ride,
Daniel stood bare-headed at the Court room door, and expressed the hope
that he might again welcome to his temple of justice “the distinguished
counsel from across the river.”
SAM DICKERSON
For many years after the war, Sam Dickerson, a former slave of the
Horlbeck family, ranted around the courts of the lower counties of
South Carolina in the practice of the legal profession, which he
had acquired in a jack-leg sort of way soon after his emancipation.
Tall, black, pompous, and as voluble as an overshot water-wheel, he
cut his grotesque antics in higher and lower courts to the intense
amusement of blacks as well as of whites. He habitually carried with
him a bag of tawdry and greasy law books, which he hauled out and
spread upon tables, wherever the space was available, to impress
jurors and court-room spectators with his importance. With monkey-like
imitativeness he copied the court-room gestures and mannerisms of
prominent lawyers of the white race, and he had memorized certain
passages from the statutes and the law blanks, which he spouted
whenever opportunity offered. Upon one occasion Dickerson was defending
in a magistrate’s court a negro accused of larceny. The word written
on the indictment pleased him and he mouthed and slobbered over it as
one mouths the pit of a clingstone peach. “Dis man bin chaa’ge’, yo’
onnuh, wid laa’ceny! He bin chaa’ge’ wid laa’ceny! W’at am laa’ceny,
yo’ onnuh?”
“Do you know what it is to steal?” retorted the court.
“Of co’se uh does, yo’ onnuh. Laa’ceny is t’ief, en’ t’ief is steal,
en’ uh man w’ich steal is uh man w’ich enter anodduh man’ house een
de dead ub night en’ did mos’ feloniously steal, tek, carry away en’
appropriate to he own use de whole or uh paa’t dereof uh de juntlemun’
proputty. But de chaa’ge, yo’ onnuh, am laa’ceny!”
Dickerson was so well known about the magistrates’ courts of the City
of Charleston that many prominent white citizens were attracted to
the trials when it was known that this simian-like advocate was going
to participate in the proceedings, and it was quite the thing to take
Northern visitors or the captains of vessels in port, to the court room
to see the black perform, and sometimes the magistrate, or the opposing
counsel, would be given a hint to stir him up for the entertainment of
the visitors.
In a trial before a Charleston magistrate, the black lawyer once sought
to have a bad case continued because of “the absence of a material
witness,” that threadbare plea so frequently urged in our courts. The
magistrate, inclined to bait him, insisted that the material witness be
produced in court forthwith.
“Yo’ onnuh, I hope you will not insis’ upun de material witness bein’
produce’ een dis co’t.”
The court demanded his reason.
“Yo’ onnuh, de material witness am a female en’ she cannot
cunweenyuntly be produce’ een dis co’t.”
“Why can’t a female witness be produced in court? What is the matter
with the witness?”
“Yo’ onnuh, I hope you will not compel me to state w’at is de matter
wid de material witness w’y she cannot be produce’ een dis co’t.”
“Unless you can give me good reasons why the material witness should
not be brought to court, I will insist upon going on with the case,”
said the court.
“Yo’ onnuh, I appeal to you as a juntlemun ub delicacy not to fo’ce me
to tell de co’t w’y de material witness cannot be produce’ een co’t.”
But the appeal to the magistrate’s delicacy of mind was of no avail and
he peremptorily ordered the case to proceed.
“Well, yo’ onnuh, my delicacy will not permit me to state een de
English langwidge w’at is de reason w’y de material witness cannot
be produce’ een co’t.”--just then a laugh from a gentleman of French
extraction in the audience, caused him to turn his head, and he
proceeded. “Yaas, suh, you kin laugh, but you cannot fo’ce me to use
de English langwidge, en’ I will haffuh fall back on my French.” Then,
wheeling around and facing the magistrate, “de reason, yo’ onnuh, w’y
de material witness cannot be produce’ een co’t, is ’cause de material
witness is”--just then a negro woman entered the room, and, hurrying up
to Dickerson pulled him by the sleeve and whispered in his ear. Turning
dramatically, he shouted, “may it please yo’ onnuh, I hab jus’ hear
from de material witness en’ I kin now resume de English langwidge.
De reason w’y de material witness cannot be produce’ een dis co’t, is
’cause _de material witness hab two twin_!”
On a certain summer day, twenty or thirty negroes from the Toogoodoo
section, assembled at the office of the trial justice at Adams Run
station to settle a legal matter. The dispute to be adjusted involved
the ownership of a brindled ox, to which claims, apparently equally
strong, were set up by two black ladies from “Down on de Salt.” One,
Bina Youngblood, the “lawfully lady” of Scipio Youngblood, the other
the lone, though not lorn, Clara Jenkins, for the moment unaffiliated.
Scipio, the “sea-lawyer” of the Swinton plantation, undertook to plead
his wife’s cause before the magistrate, while Clara, having money in
her purse, because, perhaps, she had just then no man to support, had
“done git de buckruh fuh write uh letter town, fuh tell Sam Dickuhsin
fuh come fuh rupezunt me een de co’t.” At 9 o’clock Sam arrived from
Charleston on “de shoofly strain,” as the negroes call the local which
stops at all way stations. The ox, having caused mutual wool-pulling
on the part of both claimants, had been put in the custody of the
magistrate’s constable, and, tied to the picket fence surrounding a
corn patch near the station, was chewing his cud complacently, viewing
with drowsy eyes the human turmoil about him. Clara laid excited hands
upon the Charleston advocate and pulled him into the presence of the
ox, which she introduced. “Dish’yuh duh him, Mistuh Dickuhsin. Dish’yuh
duh de oxin wuh me en’ Mis’ Nyungblood agguhnize ’bout. Uh buy dis oxin
f’um Bredduh Izick Puhshay wuh lib tuh Slann’ Ilun’ en’ Buh Izick him
buy’um f’um de Jew wuh hab uh sto’ to Wadmuhlaw, en’ ’e buy’um f’um
de Jew ’cause de oxin gone een de maa’sh fuh eat, en’ ’e bog een de
maa’sh, en’ de Jew stan’ ’puntop de bluff en’ ’e look ’puntop de oxin,
en’ ’e ’f’aid ’e gwine drowndid, en’ ’e shake alltwo ’e han’ ’bout de
oxin, en’ Buh Izick binnuh stan’up close’um, en’ de Jew try fuh sell’um
de oxin, ’cause ’e t’ink de oxin gwine dead een de maa’sh, en’ Buh
Izick tell’um him willin’ fuh g’em fibe dolluh’ fuh de oxin, en’ him
will tek’um out de maa’sh ’eself, eb’nso ef ’e dead, en’ de Jew tell’um
no, ’e yent fuh sell him oxin fuh no fibe dolluh’ ’cause him kin sell
’e meat fuh mo’n fibe dolluh’ eb’nso ef ’e done dead, but ’e say ’e
willin’ fuh tek ten dolluh’ fuhr’um weh ’e stan’. Buh Izick tell’um him
will nebbuh git’um out ef ’e dead, ’cause him well acquaintun wid uh
quicksan’ dey een de maa’sh puhzackly weh de oxin duh bog’up een de
maa’sh, en’ ’e say suh de quicksan’ gwine swalluhr’um up, en’ den de
Jew ent fuh git nutt’n’. W’en de Jew yeddy ’bout de quicksan’, ’e dat
’f’aid him gwine loss ’e oxin, ’e sell’um tuh Buh Izick fuh de fibe
dolluh’, en’ soon ez ’e buy’um en’ ’e done pit de money een de Jew’
han’, Buh Izick know berry well suh no quicksan’ dey een de maa’sh, en’
e’ gone weh de oxin duh stan’up een de mud, en’ ketch’um by ’e tail en’
twis’um two’t’ree time, en’ de oxin walk out de maa’sh jis’ ez good
ez you en’ me, en’ Buh Izick git’um een de flat en’ fetch’um ’cross,
en’ ’e nebbuh stop ’tell ’e git’um spang home weh ’e lib. Uh bin to
Buh Izick house de berry day w’en him fetch de oxin home, en’ uh yent
hab nutt’n’ fuh plow, en’ uh buy de oxin f’um Buh Izick fuh fifteen
dolluh’, en’ pay’um ten dolluh’, en’ owe’um de odduh res’ uh de money.
“W’en de Jew fin’out how Buh Izick obuhreach’um, ’e dat bex ’e yent
able fuh nyam ’e bittle, en’ ’e study all day ’bout how him kin git ’e
oxin ’gen. ’E h’aa’t hebby ’bout de oxin, en’ ’e jaw drap eb’ry time
’e t’ink ’pun Buh Izick, ’cause him t’ink suh nigguh ent fuh smaa’t
’nuf fuh cheat no Jew. Nex’ day ’nuf nigguh f’um Swintun en’ Toale gone
Wadmuhlaw full dig Irish tettuh, en’ dem gone tuh de Jew’ sto’ fuh buy
gunjuh en’ nickynack en’ t’ing. Mis’ Nyungblood en’ ’e juntlemun alltwo
gone to de sto’, en’ de Jew yeddy’um duh talk ’bout one brinly oxin wuh
buy een dem nigguhhouse yaa’d, wuh come f’um Wadmuhlaw Ilun’, en’ de
Jew tell’um yaas, duh him oxin, en’ ’e tell’um de oxin sell fuh true,
but all de money ent done pay, en’ ’e sen’ ansuh fuh tell me wuh got de
oxin fuh sen’um ten dolluh’ mo’ fuh de oxin, ’scusin’ him gwine tek’um
’way en’ sell’um ’gen. Buh Scipio en’ ’e lady alltwo fetch de Jew’
metsidge jis’ ez ’e come out ’e mout’, but uh nebbuh bodduh ’bout’um,
’cause uh know uh hab witness fuh de money uh done pay Buh Izick, en’
uh look tuh Buh Izick fuh puhteck me, but de nex’ week Mis’ Nyungblood
gone Wadmuhlaw ’gen, en’ de Jew ’suade him fuh buy de oxin fuh fifteen
dolluh’, en’ him pay’um t’ree dolluh’ on de oxin, en’ de Jew g’em uh
paper fuh tek de oxin wehrebbuh ’e kin fin’um. W’en ’e git home, de
’ooman walk een my yaa’d wid de Jew’ papuh een ’e han’, en’ e’ walk
swonguh, en’, please Gawd, ’e gone to de oxin weh ’e duh bite grass een
de fench cawnuh, en’ ’e tek’um by ’e bridle en’ staa’t fuh lead’um out
de yaa’d. Bubbuh, uh yent got no man ’bout de house fuh puhteck me,
but uh got dese ten finger ’puntop alltwo me han’ fuh puhteck meself,
en’ w’en uh see de ’ooman ’long de oxin, blood full’ alltwo me yeye!
Uh peaceubble ’tell uh bex, but w’en uh bex, uh ready fuh dead, en’
uh light ’puntop’uh da’ ’ooman same lukkuh fu’lhawk light ’puntop’uh
chickin! Me en’ him en’ de oxin, alltwo tanglety’up een de du’t ’tell
dem man een de nigguhhouse yaa’d haffuh suffuhrate we. Nex’ day me’
en’ de ’ooman hitch ’gen, w’en him come een de yaa’d fuh onhitch de
oxin de two-time, en’ uh ’cratch’ him face en’ him ’cratch’ my’own, en’
attuh dat, de trial jestuss yeddy ’bout’um en’ sen’ ’e counstubble fuh
tek’way de oxin, en’ lef’ one metsidge fuh alltwo uh we fuh come Adam’
Run deepo fuh try de case, en’ uh glad dem fuh try’um teday, teday,
’cause me en’ da’ ’ooman en’ da’ oxin ent fuh lib tuhgedduh ’puntop no
Swintun plantesshun!”
“Come eento co’t,” yelled the constable, and Clara and her counsel went
within.
The two principals and their partisans, glowering at one another,
ranged themselves on opposite sides of the little room, and the
proceedings were opened. Bina came to the witness stand with a slowly
healing gridiron of scratches covering her face, tokens of the
efficiency of Clara’s finger nails, which courtesies she had handsomely
reciprocated.
“Uh gone Wadmuhlaw fuh dig Irish tettuh, en’ w’en middleday come, me
en’ all dem todduh man en’ ’ooman gone to de Jew fuh buy bittle fuh
eat, en’ him yeddy suh we come f’um Swintun place, en’ him yeddy we
duh talk ’bout one brinly oxin wuh come f’um Wadmuhlaw, wuh one uh we
’ooman buy f’um Izick Puhshay, en’ de Jew say suh de oxin duh him’own,
en’ nex’ time me en’ my juntlemun gone Wadmuhlaw, de Jew say suh de
oxin ent pay fuh, en’ him fuh sell’um ’gen, en’ w’en ’e say dat, uh
buy’um en’ pay t’ree dolluh’ exwance on’um en’ de Jew gimme uh papuh
fuh tek de oxin wehrebbuh uh fin’um, en’ w’en uh gone home uh tek de
papuh en’ gone een de ’ooman’ yaa’d en’ tek de oxin out de fench cawnuh
en’ staa’t fuh gone, en’ ’fo’ uh kin git out de yaa’d, da’ debble’ub’uh
blacksnake ub uh ’ooman tek uh exwantidge w’en uh yent binnuh study
’bout’um, en’ him git een de fus’ lick, en’ ’e yent sattify fuh ’cratch
me eyeball’ en’ fight deestunt lukkuh lady fuh fight, but him haffuh
bite me een de same time, en’ ’e teet’ shaa’p ez ottuh’ teet’, en’
de ’ooman mek ’e fang’ fuh meet een me yez, but me Jedus help me fuh
obuht’row’um, en’ befo’ dem man suffuhrate we, uh done spile ’e face
’tell ’e maamy yent fuh know’um! Uh gone t’ru’um sukkuh bulltongue plow
gone t’ru blackberry wine! You shum stan’ dey? Duh me mek ’e mout’ fuh
twis’up oagly same lukkuh him binnuh chaw green possimmun!”
With a curtsy to the court and a scornful glance at her opponent,
Bina retired, and after Clara had repeated word for word the story
previously related to her attorney--for some negroes have the
faculty of memorizing and repeating a romantic story over and over
again, omitting none of the mendacious minutiæ--Scipio, a stout,
self-conscious black, rose to match his plantation wit with that of the
experienced advocate.
“Jedge, w’en my lady ubtain dis cow f’um de Jew tuh Wadmuhlaw--”
Old Sam rose impressively. “Do my distinguish’ fr’en’ frum Toogoodoo
allude to de annimel dat is now een de custody ub dis honuhrubble co’t
ez _cow_?”
“Yaas, uh call’um cow! Cow duh ’e name! Mekso me yent fuh call’um cow!
Uh call’um cow, uh dunkyuh ef e’ duh _bull_! Enty roostuh en’ hen
alltwo is fowl? Uh call’um cow, yaas! Wuh de debble town nigguh’ know
’bout annimel?”
“Kin de ‘town nigguh’ eenfawm de distinguish’ counsel,” observed Sam,
sarcastically, “dat he is berry well acquaintun wid uh sutt’n annimel
dat eenhabit de jungle ub Aff’iky, but, ontell teday, he hab always
obserb dis annimel fuh hab tail. Puhhaps de specie’ dat roam t’ru de
fores’ ub Toogoodoo is bawn bidout tail!”
“Great King! ’E fuh call me _monkey_!” protested Scipio, as the
audience exploded with laughter, for however resentful they may be of
such characterization by the whites, in their lighter moments, the
coast negroes, at least, delight in the exchange among themselves of
“monkey,” “’ranguhtang,” “crow,” “buzzut,” “blacksnake,” “nigguh” and
like terms of opprobrious endearment. “Da’ ’ranguhtang f’um town fuh
call me monkey! _Him gran’daddy ’self duh monkey!_”
The magistrate put a stop to these amenities between counsel, but
Scipio’s verbal machine gun was jammed and, too full for utterance, he
took his seat, muttering wrathfully as Sam rose triumphant.
“Ef it please de co’t,” said Sam, “I repeah een dis tribunul fuh
rupezunt dis defenseless female ub de Aff’ikin race f’um de paa’simony
ub uh membuh ub de tribe dat tek Juhruzelum f’um de Christ’un t’ree
t’ous’n’ yeah’ ago!”
“Now ’e duh talk’um!” commented a spectator.
“I am sattisfy’, yo’ onnuh, dat I kin repeal to yo’ onnuh’ sense ub
jestuss fuh gib dis po’ ’ooman de puhtekshun to w’ich de po’ en’ weak
am eentitle’ f’um de rich en’ de strong, ’cause, yo’ onnuh, een de
langwidge ub uh distinguish’ membuh ub de Chaa’lstun baa’, w’enebbuh we
enter de sacrid premussis ub uh co’t ub law, we all seddown onduhneet’
de eagle ub jestuss as de chicken seddown onduhneet’ de hen!
“Now, yo’ onnuh, what am de fack? Dish’yuh tenduh female, yo’ onnuh,
bidout de puhtekshun ub uh man fuh gyaa’d’um f’um de human race, is
t’rowed on his back fuh puhteck ’eself, lukkuh de wil’cat t’row ’eself
’pun ’e back onduhneet’ de harricane tree fuh refen’ ’eself ’genst de
pack ub houn’ by whom she is attacktid.”
“Yaas, him ’cratch lukkuh wil’cat fuh true!” commented Mrs. Youngblood.
“Yo’ onnuh, dis tenduh female buy de ox een queschun f’um Izick
Puhshay, uh respected citizen ub de Newnited State’, en’ she hab
witness fuh proobe dat de money wuz to him een han’ pay, en’ to
’stablish his ’t’oruhty obuh de ox. De afo’sed Izick Puhshay buy de
ox f’um de Jew, de paa’ty ub de fus’ paa’t, residin’ een de premussis
afo’sed ’pun de Ilun’ ub Wadmuhlaw, een de State ub Sous Cuhlina. De
Jew’ ox hab fall eento de pit, yo’ onnuh, en’ ’less ’e is fuh perish,
de ox is sell to Izick Puhshay, dis respected citizen ub de Newnited
State’ afo’sed, who by his ability twis’ de tail ub de ox en’ mek’um
fuh ’bandun he puhsishun een de maa’sh, en’ betake himself to de high
groun’. W’en de membuh ub de tribe ub Juhruzelum see dat de ability ub
de Aff’ikin race sabe de life ub de ox, he feel disapp’int’ wid ’eself,
en’ he seek to agen ubtain de proputty dat he hab loss, en’ ’e sell de
’denticul ox de two time, to de paa’ty ub de secon’ paa’t.
“Deyfo’, yo’ onnuh, I mek uh plea fuh dis tenduh female ub de human
race, alldo’ his skin is black, dat jestuss be done, en’ dat his ox
shall not be tek away.”
His plea was effective, for Clara returned joyfully to Toogoodoo with
the restored ox tied behind the cart in which she had come, while Bina
nursed her wrath to keep it warm until she could return to Wadmalaw to
seek to recover her three dollars “exwance” from “de membuh ub de tribe
ub Juhruzelum.”
SIMON, THE “SQUERRIL” HUNTER
As boys, a few years after the war, we knew him as a mighty squirrel
hunter, and the negroes in the neighborhood knew him as a mighty
slippery old scoundrel, whose smoothness had earned him the sobriquet
of Okra--at once a tribute and a reproach--for the skill acquired in
slaughtering “de buckruh’ cow en’ t’ing’” in the swamps, was sometimes
used to lift a shoat from some nearby colored brother or sister when
Simon did not care to hunt far afield, and, however commendable one’s
prowess in preying upon “de buckruh,” who, for purposes of spoliation,
stood in the same relation to the newly freed slaves that the esteemed
Egyptians did to the children of Israel, it was regarded in dusky
circles as somewhat unethical to steal from one’s own color.
Although always suspected, old Okra was never caught. When he killed
a cow or other large game, the hide, and the head with its telltale
ear-marks, were carefully buried in the woods, and part of the meat
distributed among his cronies, insuring not only their protective
silence, but a full crop of elaborate alibis for Simon, should
suspicion ripen into accusation. “Nigguh haffuh stan’ by we colluh,”
being the motto on all the plantations round about.
The squirrel hunter was as lean and hungry-looking as Cassius, with a
shifty eye and a face deeply pock-marked. His footfall was stealthy and
noiseless and he could walk the woods from dawn to dusk without tiring.
For several years following the war, many low-country negroes carried
condemned army muskets which they bought for a dollar or two--long,
heavy muzzle-loaders, straight of stock and hard of trigger. Although
rifled, their proud owners rammed down and shot out of their grooved
barrels anything and everything but ball. Shot of uniform size was not
only held unnecessary, but really undesirable, an assortment of sizes
running from No. 8 to No. 2, the latter called “high duckshot,” being
regarded as a mixed dose seriously jeoparding the safety of rabbit or
“squerril” at a distance of “two tas’”--two tasks (½ an acre).
Most of the new-fledged negro sportsmen were content to hunt the
little cat squirrels that were plentiful in the wooded swamps and the
oak and hickory knolls, but Simon was ambitious and habitually hunted
the beautiful fox squirrels, grays and blacks, wary creatures, rarely
met with and found only among tall pines--sometimes in the long leaf
_palustris_ of the ridges, but oftener in the great “loblollies”
skirting the bays, the height of the trees and the Spanish moss that
clustered thick about their towering tops, making them safe retreats,
once reached. One of these big squirrels would sometimes be surprised
on or near the ground, offering a shot before he got far up the tall
trunks which he always ascended rapidly with a great clatter of claws
on the bark, cunningly keeping on the off side from the hunter, but
never slackening speed till a fork or one of the higher branches was
reached, upon which he would flatten out and keep absolutely still.
Even a boy then knew it was wasting precious powder and shot to attempt
to make him break sanctuary, but not so old Okra. He had implicit faith
and infinite pride in the shooting powers of his old “muskick,”--“Ole
Betsey, him cya’ shot fuh sowl,” and he would crack away as long as
his ammunition lasted, at a gray or black spot at the tip-top of some
forest giant; often indeed, at a dead squirrel, for these “foxes” have
an exceedingly inconsiderate habit of digging their claws so deeply
into the bark that they hang on after death and are hard to dislodge.
Often the boy hunter roaming the woods, day-dreaming of the buck or big
gobbler that was always about to spring up just ahead of him, to fall
gloriously to his little single barrel, would hear at intervals the
heavy “_duhbaw!_” of Simon’s ordnance and know that the indefatigable
old sinner was, like most of us, reaching up after the unattainable.
Curiosity to learn how he was faring would sometimes overcome caution,
for Simon always begged for powder, and his ingratiating “Mass----
so freehan’,” seldom failed to coax from the flask part of the boy’s
scanty store, but woe to the scanty store if Simon was permitted to
“po’rum.” “Berry well den, suh, you po’rum,” and into the deeply
cupped palm of the avaricious hand he held out, the precious powder
would trickle. Simon never stinted his gun, and as long as the donor
would pour, the recipient had no scruples about drams running into
ounces. Whatever you poured into his hand went into the gun, and when
she responded in recalcitrance to a double charge, sending her owner
staggering back among the gallberry bushes, he would grin proudly and
remark, “Him duh tell we tengky fuh wuh we g’em. Betsey him hab uh
hebby belly fuh powder.”
One crisp winter’s day, Simon and his half-grown son, “Boyzie,” were
encountered on a high pineland plateau dotted with a chain of shallow,
sedgy ponds. Suddenly, from the marge of a pond a hundred yards away,
the plume-like tail of a big gray fox squirrel was seen waving jerkily
over the ground as he ran for the timber. The party gave chase and
succeeded in putting him up in a clump of tall long-leaf saplings
before he could reach the big trees. Simon’s eyes shone like brown
pebbles through the sunlit waters of a shallow brook. His slouch was
gone and he was all alertness, apprehension.