mammy standin' in de kitchen, lookin' back in de d'rection little Mose
wuz comin' fum. En dey wuz tears in her eyes, en she look' mo' po'ly en
peaked 'n she had w'en he wuz down dere befo'. So little Mose sot on a
tree in de ya'd en sung, en sung, en sung, des fittin' ter split his
th'oat. Fus' Sis' Becky did n' notice 'im much, but dis mawkin'-bird
kep' stayin' roun' de house all day, en bimeby Sis' Becky des 'magine'
dat mawkin'-bird wuz her little Mose crowin' en crowin', des lack he
useter do w'en his mammy would come home at night fum de cotton-fiel'.
De mawkin'-bird stayed roun' dere 'mos' all day, en w'en Sis' Becky went
out in de ya'd one time, dis yer mawkin'-bird lit on her shoulder en
peck' at de piece er bread she wuz eatin', en fluttered his wings so dey
rub' up agin de side er her head. En w'en he flewed away 'long late in
de ebenin', des 'fo' sundown, Sis' Becky felt mo' better 'n she had
sence she had heared dat hummin'-bird a week er so pas'. En dat night
she dremp 'bout ole times ag'in, des lack she did befo'.
"But dis yer totin' little Mose down ter ole Aun' Peggy, en dis yer
gittin' things fer ter pay de cunjuh 'oman, use' up a lot er Aun'
Nancy's time, en she begun ter git kinder ti'ed. 'Sides dat, w'en Sis'
Becky had be'n on de plantation, she had useter he'p Aun' Nancy wid de
young uns ebenin's en Sundays; en Aun' Nancy 'mence' ter miss 'er
monst'us, 'speshly sence she got a tech er de rheumatiz herse'f, en so
she 'lows ter ole Aun' Peggy one day:--
"'Aun' Peggy, ain' dey no way you kin fetch Sis' Becky back home?'
"'Huh!' sez Aun' Peggy, 'I dunno 'bout dat. I'll hafter wuk my roots en
fin' out whuther I kin er no. But it'll take a monst'us heap er wuk, en
I can't was'e my time fer nuffin. Ef you'll fetch me sump'n ter pay me
fer my trouble, I reckon we kin fix it.'
"So nex' day Aun' Nancy went down ter see Aun' Peggy ag'in.
"'Aun' Peggy,' sez she, 'I is fotch' you my bes' Sunday head-hankercher.
Will dat do?'
"Aun' Peggy look' at de head-hankercher, en run her han' ober it, en
sez she:--
"'Yas, dat'll do fus'-rate. I's be'n wukkin' my roots sence you be'n
gone, en I 'lows mos' lackly I kin git Sis' Becky back, but it 's gwine
take fig'rin' en studyin' ez well ez cunj'in'. De fus' thing ter do'll
be ter stop fetchin' dat pickaninny down heah, en not sen' 'im ter see
his mammy no mo'. Ef he gits too po'ly, you lemme know, en I'll gib you
some kin' er mixtry fer ter make 'im fergit Sis' Becky fer a week er so.
So 'less'n you comes fer dat, you neenter come back ter see me no mo'
'tel I sen's fer you.'
"So Aun' Peggy sont Aun' Nancy erway, en de fus' thing she done wuz ter
call a hawnet fum a nes' unner her eaves.
"You go up ter Kunnel Pen'leton's stable, hawnet,' sez she, 'en sting de
knees er de race hoss name' Lightnin' Bug. Be sho' en git de right
one.'
"So de hawnet flewed up ter Kunnel Pen'leton's stable en stung Lightnin'
Bug roun' de laigs, en de nex' mawnin' Lightnin' Bug's knees wuz all
swoll' up, twice't ez big ez dey oughter be. W'en Kunnel Pen'leton went
out ter de stable en see de hoss's laigs, hit would 'a' des made you
trimble lack a leaf fer ter heah him cuss dat hoss trader. Howsomeber,
he cool' off bimeby en tol' de stable boy fer ter rub Lightnin' Bug's
laigs wid some linimum. De boy done ez his marster tol' 'im, en by de
nex' day de swellin' had gone down consid'able. Aun' Peggy had sont a
sparrer, w'at had a nes' in one er de trees close ter her cabin, fer ter
watch w'at wuz gwine on 'roun' de big house, en w'en dis yer sparrer
tol' 'er de hoss wuz gittin' ober de swellin', she sont de hawnet back
fer ter sting 'is knees some mo', en de nex' mawnin' Lightnin' Bug's
laigs wuz swoll' up wuss 'n befo'.
"Well, dis time Kunnel Pen'leton wuz mad th'oo en th'oo, en all de way
'roun', en he cusst dat hoss trader up en down, fum _A_ ter _Izzard_. He
cusst so ha'd dat de stable boy got mos' skeered ter def, en went off en
hid hisse'f in de hay.
"Ez fer Kunnel Pen'leton, he went right up ter de house en got out his
pen en ink, en tuk off his coat en roll' up his sleeves, en writ a
letter ter dis yer hoss trader, en sezee:--
"'You is sol' me a hoss w'at is got a ringbone er a spavin er sump'n, en
w'at I paid you fer wuz a soun' hoss. I wants you ter sen' my nigger
'oman back en take yo' ole hoss, er e'se I'll sue you, sho 's you
bawn.'
"But dis yer man wa'n't skeered a bit, en he writ back ter Kunnel
Pen'leton dat a bahg'in wuz a bahg'in; dat Lightnin' Bug wuz soun' w'en
he sol' 'im, en ef Kunnel Pen'leton did n' knowed ernuff 'bout hosses
ter take keer er a fine racer, dat wuz his own fune'al. En he say Kunnel
Pen'leton kin sue en be cusst fer all he keer, but he ain' gwine ter gib
up de nigger he bought en paid fer.
"W'en Kunnel Pen'leton got dis letter he wuz madder 'n he wuz befo',
'speshly 'ca'se dis man 'lowed he did n' know how ter take keer er fine
hosses. But he could n' do nuffin but fetch a lawsuit, en he knowed, by
his own 'spe'ience, dat lawsuits wuz slow ez de seben-yeah eetch and
cos' mo' d'n dey come ter, en he 'lowed he better go slow en wait
awhile.
"Aun' Peggy knowed w'at wuz gwine on all dis time, en she fix' up a
little bag wid some roots en one thing en ernudder in it, en gun it ter
dis sparrer er her'n, en tol' 'im ter take it 'way down yander whar
Sis' Becky wuz, en drap it right befo' de do' er her cabin, so she 'd be
sho' en fin' it de fus' time she come out'n de do'.
"One night Sis' Becky dremp' her pickaninny wuz dead, en de nex' day she
wuz mo'nin' en groanin' all day. She dremp' de same dream th'ee nights
runnin', en den, de nex' mawnin' atter de las' night, she foun' dis yer
little bag de sparrer had drap' in front her do'; en she 'lowed she'd
be'n cunju'd, en wuz gwine ter die, en ez long ez her pickaninny wuz
dead dey wa'n't no use tryin' ter do nuffin nohow. En so she tuk 'n went
ter bed, en tol' her marster she 'd be'n cunju'd en wuz gwine ter die.
"Her marster lafft at her, en argyed wid her, en tried ter 'suade her
out'n dis yer fool notion, ez he called it,--fer he wuz one er dese yer
w'ite folks w'at purten' dey doan b'liebe in cunj'in',--but hit wa'n't
no use. Sis' Becky kep' gittin' wusser en wusser, 'tel fin'lly dis yer
man 'lowed Sis' Becky wuz gwine ter die, sho' 'nuff. En ez he knowed dey
had n' be'n nuffin de matter wid Lightnin' Bug w'en he traded 'im, he
'lowed mebbe he could kyo' 'im en fetch 'im roun' all right, leas'ways
good 'nuff ter sell ag'in. En anyhow, a lame hoss wuz better 'n a dead
nigger. So he sot down en writ Kunnel Pen'leton a letter.
"'My conscience,' sezee, 'has be'n troublin' me 'bout dat ringbone' hoss
I sol' you. Some folks 'lows a hoss trader ain' got no conscience, but
dey doan know me, fer dat is my weak spot, en de reason I ain' made no
mo' money hoss tradin'. Fac' is,' sezee, 'I is got so I can't sleep
nights fum studyin' 'bout dat spavin' hoss; en I is made up my min' dat,
w'iles a bahg'in is a bahg'in, en you seed Lightnin' Bug befo' you
traded fer 'im, principle is wuth mo' d'n money er hosses er niggers. So
ef you'll sen' Lightnin' Bug down heah, I'll sen' yo' nigger 'oman
back, en we'll call de trade off, en be ez good frien's ez we eber wuz,
en no ha'd feelin's.'
"So sho' 'nuff, Kunnel Pen'leton sont de hoss back. En w'en de man w'at
come ter bring Lightnin' Bug tol' Sis' Becky her pickaninny wa'n't dead,
Sis' Becky wuz so glad dat she 'lowed she wuz gwine ter try ter lib 'tel
she got back whar she could see little Mose once mo'. En w'en she retch'
de ole plantation en seed her baby kickin' en crowin' en holdin' out his
little arms to'ds her, she wush' she wuz n' cunju'd en did n' hafter
die. En w'en Aun' Nancy tol' 'er all 'bout Aun' Peggy, Sis' Becky went
down ter see de cunjuh 'oman, en Aun' Peggy tol' her she had cunju'd
her. En den Aun' Peggy tuk de goopher off'n her, en she got well, en
stayed on de plantation, en raise' her pickaninny. En w'en little Mose
growed up, he could sing en whistle des lack a mawkin'-bird, so dat de
w'ite folks useter hab 'im come up ter de big house at night, en whistle
en sing fer 'em, en dey useter gib 'im money en vittles en one thing er
ernudder, w'ich he alluz tuk home ter his mammy; fer he knowed all 'bout
w'at she had gone th'oo. He tu'nt out ter be a sma't man, en l'arnt de
blacksmif trade; en Kunnel Pen'leton let 'im hire his time. En bimeby he
bought his mammy en sot her free, en den he bought hisse'f, en tuk keer
er Sis' Becky ez long ez dey bofe libbed."
My wife had listened to this story with greater interest than she had
manifested in any subject for several days. I had watched her furtively
from time to time during the recital, and had observed the play of her
countenance. It had expressed in turn sympathy, indignation, pity, and
at the end lively satisfaction.
"That is a very ingenious fairy tale, Julius," I said, "and we are much
obliged to you."
"Why, John!" said my wife severely, "the story bears the stamp of truth,
if ever a story did."
"Yes," I replied, "especially the humming-bird episode, and the
mocking-bird digression, to say nothing of the doings of the hornet and
the sparrow."
"Oh, well, I don't care," she rejoined, with delightful animation;
"those are mere ornamental details and not at all essential. The story
is true to nature, and might have happened half a hundred times, and no
doubt did happen, in those horrid days before the war."
"By the way, Julius," I remarked, "your story doesn't establish what
you started out to prove,--that a rabbit's foot brings good luck."
"Hit's plain 'nuff ter me, suh," replied Julius. "I bet young missis
dere kin 'splain it herse'f."
"I rather suspect," replied my wife promptly, "that Sis' Becky had no
rabbit's foot."
"You is hit de bull's-eye de fus' fire, ma'm," assented Julius. "Ef Sis'
Becky had had a rabbit foot, she nebber would 'a' went th'oo all dis
trouble."
I went into the house for some purpose, and left Julius talking to my
wife. When I came back a moment later, he was gone.
My wife's condition took a turn for the better from this very day, and
she was soon on the way to ultimate recovery. Several weeks later, after
she had resumed her afternoon drives, which had been interrupted by her
illness, Julius brought the rockaway round to the front door one day,
and I assisted my wife into the carriage.
"John," she said, before I had taken my seat, "I wish you would look in
my room, and bring me my handkerchief. You will find it in the pocket
of my blue dress."
I went to execute the commission. When I pulled the handkerchief out of
her pocket, something else came with it and fell on the floor. I picked
up the object and looked at it. It was Julius's rabbit's foot.
THE GRAY WOLFS HA'NT
It was a rainy day at the vineyard. The morning had dawned bright and
clear. But the sky had soon clouded, and by nine o'clock there was a
light shower, followed by others at brief intervals. By noon the rain
had settled into a dull, steady downpour. The clouds hung low, and
seemed to grow denser instead of lighter as they discharged their watery
burden, and there was now and then a muttering of distant thunder.
Outdoor work was suspended, and I spent most of the day at the house,
looking over my accounts and bringing up some arrears of correspondence.
Towards four o'clock I went out on the piazza, which was broad and dry,
and less gloomy than the interior of the house, and composed myself for
a quiet smoke. I had lit my cigar and opened the volume I was reading at
that time, when my wife, whom I had left dozing on a lounge, came out
and took a rocking-chair near me.
"I wish you would talk to me, or read to me--or something," she
exclaimed petulantly. "It's awfully dull here today."
"I'll read to you with pleasure," I replied, and began at the point
where I had found my bookmark:--
"'The difficulty of dealing with transformations so many-sided as those
which all existences have undergone, or are undergoing, is such as to
make a complete and deductive interpretation almost hopeless. So to
grasp the total process of redistribution of matter and motion as to see
simultaneously its several necessary results in their actual
interdependence is scarcely possible. There is, however, a mode of
rendering the process as a whole tolerably comprehensible. Though the
genesis of the rearrangement of every evolving aggregate is in itself
one, it presents to our intelligence'"--
"John," interrupted my wife, "I wish you would stop reading that
nonsense and see who that is coming up the lane."
I closed my book with a sigh. I had never been able to interest my wife
in the study of philosophy, even when presented in the simplest and most
lucid form.
Some one was coming up the lane; at least, a huge faded cotton umbrella
was making progress toward the house, and beneath it a pair of nether
extremities in trousers was discernible. Any doubt in my mind as to
whose they were was soon resolved when Julius reached the steps and,
putting the umbrella down, got a good dash of the rain as he stepped up
on the porch.
"Why in the world, Julius," I asked, "didn't you keep the umbrella up
until you got under cover?"
"It's bad luck, suh, ter raise a' umbrella in de house, en w'iles I
dunno whuther it's bad luck ter kyar one inter de piazzer er no, I 'lows
it's alluz bes' ter be on de safe side. I did n' s'pose you en young
missis 'u'd be gwine on yo' dribe ter-day, but bein' ez it's my pa't ter
take you ef you does, I 'lowed I 'd repo't fer dooty, en let you say
whuther er no you wants ter go."
"I'm glad you came, Julius," I responded. "We don't want to go driving,
of course, in the rain, but I should like to consult you about another
matter. I'm thinking of taking in a piece of new ground. What do you
imagine it would cost to have that neck of woods down by the swamp
cleared up?"
The old man's countenance assumed an expression of unwonted seriousness,
and he shook his head doubtfully.
"I dunno 'bout dat, suh. It mought cos' mo', en it mought cos' less, ez
fuh ez money is consarned. I ain' denyin' you could cl'ar up dat trac'
er Ian' fer a hund'ed er a couple er hund'ed dollahs,--ef you wants ter
cl'ar it up. But ef dat 'uz my trac' er Ian', I would n' 'sturb it, no,
suh, I would n'; sho 's you bawn, I would n'."
"But why not?" I asked.
"It ain' fittin' fer grapes, fer noo groun' nebber is."
"I know it, but"--
"It ain' no yeathly good fer cotton, 'ca'se it's top low."
"Perhaps so; but it will raise splendid corn."
"I dunno," rejoined Julius deprecatorily. "It's so nigh de swamp dat de
'coons'll eat up all de cawn."
"I think I'll risk it," I answered.
"Well, suh," said Julius, "I wushes you much joy er yo' job. Ef you has
bad luck er sickness er trouble er any kin', doan blame _me_. You can't
say ole Julius did n' wa'n you."
"Warn him of what, Uncle Julius?" asked my wife.
"Er de bad luck w'at follers folks w'at 'sturbs dat trac' er Ian'. Dey
is snakes en sco'pions in dem woods. En ef you manages ter 'scape de
p'isen animals, you is des boun' ter hab a ha'nt ter settle wid,--ef you
doan hab two."
"Whose haunt?" my wife demanded, with growing interest.
"De gray wolf's ha'nt, some folks calls it,--but I knows better."
"Tell us about it, Uncle Julius," said my wife. "A story will be a
godsend to-day."
It was not difficult to induce the old man to tell a story, if he were
in a reminiscent mood. Of tales of the old slavery days he seemed indeed
to possess an exhaustless store,--some weirdly grotesque, some broadly
humorous; some bearing the stamp of truth, faint, perhaps, but still
discernible; others palpable inventions, whether his own or not we never
knew, though his fancy doubtless embellished them. But even the wildest
was not without an element of pathos,--the tragedy, it might be, of the
story itself; the shadow, never absent, of slavery and of ignorance; the
sadness, always, of life as seen by the fading light of an old man's
memory.
"Way back yander befo' de wah," began Julius, "ole Mars Dugal' McAdoo
useter own a nigger name' Dan. Dan wuz big en strong en hearty en
peaceable en good-nachu'd most er de time, but dange'ous ter aggervate.
He alluz done his task, en nebber had no trouble wid de w'ite folks, but
woe be unter de nigger w'at 'lowed he c'd fool wid Dan, fer he wuz mos'
sho' ter git a good lammin'. Soon ez eve'ybody foun' Dan out, dey did
n' many un 'em 'temp' ter 'sturb 'im. De one dat did would 'a' wush' he
had n', ef he could 'a' libbed long ernuff ter do any wushin'.
"It all happen' dis erway. Dey wuz a cunjuh man w'at libbed ober t'
other side er de Lumbe'ton Road. He had be'n de only cunjuh doctor in de
naberhood fer lo! dese many yeahs, 'tel ole Aun' Peggy sot up in de
bizness down by de Wim'l'ton Road. Dis cunjuh man had a son w'at libbed
wid 'im, en it wuz dis yer son w'at got mix' up wid Dan,--en all 'bout a
'oman.
"Dey wuz a gal on de plantation name' Mahaly. She wuz a monst'us lackly
gal,--tall en soopl', wid big eyes, en a small foot, en a lively tongue,
en w'en Dan tuk ter gwine wid 'er eve'ybody 'lowed dey wuz well match',
en none er de yuther nigger men on de plantation das' ter go nigh her,
fer dey wuz all feared er Dan.
"Now, it happen' dat dis yer cunjuh man's son wuz gwine 'long de road
one day, w'en who sh'd come pas' but Mahaly. En de minute dis man sot
eyes on Mahaly, he 'lowed he wuz gwine ter hab her fer hisse'f. He come
up side er her en 'mence' ter talk ter her; but she didn' paid no
'tention ter 'im, fer she wuz studyin' 'bout Dan, en she did n' lack dis
nigger's looks nohow. So w'en she got ter whar she wuz gwine, dis yer
man wa'n't no fu'ther 'long dan he wuz w'en he sta'ted.
"Co'se, atter he had made up his min' fer ter git Mahaly, he 'mence' ter
'quire 'roun', en soon foun' out all 'bout Dan, en w'at a dange'ous
nigger he wuz. But dis man 'lowed his daddy wuz a cunjuh man, en so he
'd come out all right in de een'; en he kep' right on atter Mahaly.
Meanw'iles Dan's marster had said dey could git married ef dey wanter,
en so Dan en Mahaly had tuk up wid one ernudder, en wuz libbin' in a
cabin by deyse'ves, en wuz des wrop' up in one ernudder.
"But dis yer cunjuh man's son did n' 'pear ter min' Dan's takin' up wid
Mahaly, en he kep' on hangin' 'roun' des de same, 'tel fin'lly one day
Mahaly sez ter Dan, sez she:--
"'I wush you 'd do sump'n ter stop dat free nigger man fum follerin' me
'roun'. I doan lack him nohow, en I ain' got no time fer ter was'e wid
no man but you.'
"Co'se Dan got mad w'en he heared 'bout dis man pest'rin' Mahaly, en de
nex' night, w'en he seed dis nigger comin' 'long de road, he up en ax'
'im w'at he mean by hangin' 'roun' his 'oman. De man did n' 'spon' ter
suit Dan, en one wo'd led ter ernudder, 'tel bimeby dis cunjuh man's son
pull' out a knife en sta'ted ter stick it in Dan; but befo' he could git
it drawed good, Dan haul' off en hit 'im in de head so ha'd dat he
nebber got up. Dan 'lowed he 'd come to atter a w'ile en go 'long 'bout
his bizness, so he went off en lef 'im layin' dere on de groun'.
"De nex' mawnin' de man wuz foun' dead. Dey wuz a great 'miration made
'bout it, but Dan did n' say nuffin, en none er de yuther niggers had n'
seed de fight, so dey wa'n't no way ter tell who done de killin'. En
bein' ez it wuz a free nigger, en dey wa'n't no w'ite folks 'speshly
int'rusted, dey wa'n't nuffin done 'bout it, en de cunjuh man come en
tuk his son en kyared 'im 'way en buried 'im.
"Now, Dan had n' meant ter kill dis nigger, en w'iles he knowed de man
had n'' got no mo' d'n he desarved, Dan 'mence' ter worry mo' er less.
Fer he knowed dis man's daddy would wuk his roots en prob'ly fin' out
who had killt 'is son, en make all de trouble fer 'im he could. En Dan
kep' on studyin' 'bout dis 'tel he got so he did n' ha'dly das' ter eat
er drink fer fear dis cunjuh man had p'isen' de vittles er de water.
Fin'lly he 'lowed he 'd go ter see Aun' Peggy, de noo cunjuh 'oman w'at
had moved down by de Wim'l'ton Road, en ax her fer ter do sump'n ter
pertec' 'im fum dis cunjuh man. So he tuk a peck er 'taters en went down
ter her cabin one night.
"Aun' Peggy heared his tale, en den sez she:--
"'Dat cunjuh man is mo' d'n twice't ez ole ez I is, en he kin make
monst'us powe'ful goopher. W'at you needs is a life-cha'm, en I'll make
you one ter-morrer; it's de on'y thing w'at'll do you any good. You
leabe me a couple er ha'rs fum yo' head, en fetch me a pig ter-morrer
night fer ter roas', en w'en you come I'll hab de cha'm all ready fer
you.'
"So Dan went down ter Aun' Peggy de nex' night,--wid a young shote,--en
Aun' Peggy gun 'im de cha'm. She had tuk de ha'rs Dan had lef wid 'er,
en a piece er red flannin, en some roots en yarbs, en had put 'em in a
little bag made out'n 'coon-skin.
"'You take dis cha'm,' sez she, 'en put it in a bottle er a tin box, en
bury it deep unner de root er a live-oak tree, en ez long ez it stays
dere safe en soun', dey ain' no p'isen kin p'isen you, dey ain' no
rattlesnake kin bite you, dey ain' no sco'pion kin sting you. Dis yere
cunjuh man mought do one thing er 'nudder ter you, but he can't kill
you. So you neenter be at all skeered, but go 'long 'bout yo' bizness en
doan bother yo' min'.'
"So Dan went down by de ribber, en 'way up on de bank he buried de cha'm
deep unner de root er a live-oak tree, en kivered it up en stomp' de
dirt down en scattered leaves ober de spot, en den went home wid his
min' easy.
"Sho' 'nuff, dis yer cunjuh man wukked his roots, des ez Dan had
'spected he would, en soon l'arn' who killt his son. En co'se he made up
his min' fer ter git eben wid Dan. So he sont a rattlesnake fer ter
sting 'im, but de rattlesnake say de nigger's heel wuz so ha'd he could
n' git his sting in. Den he sont his jay-bird fer ter put p'isen in
Dan's vittles, but de p'isen did n' wuk. Den de cunjuh man 'low' he'd
double Dan all up wid de rheumatiz, so he could n' git 'is ban' ter his
mouf ter eat, en would hafter sta've ter def; but Dan went ter Aun'
Peggy, en she gun 'im a' 'intment ter kyo de rheumatiz. Den de cunjuh
man 'lowed he 'd bu'n Dan up wid a fever, but Aun' Peggy tol' 'im how
ter make some yarb tea fer dat. Nuffin dis man tried would kill Dan, so
fin'lly de cunjuh man 'lowed Dan mus' hab a life-cha'm.
"Now, dis yer jay-bird de cunjuh man had wuz a monst'us sma't
creeter,--fac', de niggers 'lowed he wuz de ole Debbil hisse'f, des
settin' roun' waitin' ter kyar dis ole man erway w'en he 'd retch' de
een' er his rope. De cunjuh man sont dis jay-bird fer ter watch Dan en
fin' out whar he kep' his cha'm. De jay-bird hung roun' Dan fer a week
er so, en one day he seed Dan go down by de ribber en look at a live-oak
tree; en den de jay-bird went back ter his marster, en tol' 'im he
'spec' de nigger kep' his life-cha'm under dat tree.
"De cunjuh man lafft en lafft, en he put on his bigges' pot, en fill' it
wid his stronges' roots, en b'iled it en b'iled it, 'tel bimeby de win'
blowed en blowed, 'tel it blowed down de live-oak tree. Den he stirred
some more roots in de pot, en it rained en rained 'tel de water run down
de ribber bank en wash' Dan's life-cha'm inter de ribber, en de bottle
went bobbin' down de current des ez onconsarned ez ef it wa'n't takin'
po' Dan's chances all 'long wid it. En den de cunjuh man lafft some mo',
en 'lowed ter hisse'f dat he wuz gwine ter fix Dan now, sho' 'nuff; he
wa'n't gwine ter kill 'im des yet, fer he could do sump'n ter 'im w'at
would hu't wusser 'n killin'.
"So dis cunjuh man 'mence' by gwine up ter Dan's cabin eve'y night, en
takin' Dan out in his sleep en ridin' 'im roun' de roads en fiel's ober
de rough groun'. In de mawnin' Dan would be ez ti'ed ez ef he had n'
be'n ter sleep. Dis kin' er thing kep' up fer a week er so, en Dan had
des 'bout made up his min' fer ter go en see Aun' Peggy ag'in, w'en who
sh'd he come across, gwine 'long de road one day, to'ds sundown, but dis
yer cunjuh man. Dan felt kinder skeered at fus'; but den he 'membered
'bout his life-cha'm, w'ich he had n' be'n ter see fer a week er so, en
'lowed wuz safe en soun' unner de live-oak tree, en so he hilt up 'is
head en walk' 'long, des lack he did n' keer nuffin 'bout dis man no mo'
d'n any yuther nigger. Wen he got close ter de cunjuh man, dis cunjuh
man sez, sezee:--
"'Hoddy, Brer Dan? I hopes you er well?'
"Wen Dan seed de cunjuh man wuz in a good humor en did n' 'pear ter bear
no malice, Dan 'lowed mebbe de cunjuh man had n' foun' out who killt his
son, en so he 'termine' fer ter let on lack he did n' know nuffin, en so
sezee:--
"'Hoddy, Unk' Jube?'--dis ole cunjuh man's name wuz Jube. 'I 's p'utty
well, I thank you. How is you feelin' dis mawnin'?'
"'I's feelin' ez well ez a' ole nigger could feel w'at had los' his only
son, en his main 'pen'ence in 'is ole age.