CHAPTER XII.

PETE'S SLAVERY AND FREEDOM.

"WELL, it's rather flusticatin' to tell grand folks like you about a

darkey what's of no account, but I thinks of it considerable when there

ain't much else to do. You see I had a father and a mother, and my

father wasn't of much account for he drinked like a fish. Then he

walloped us all round, and come pretty near killin' the whole of us like

he did mother."

"Killed your mother, the wretch! what did you let him do it for?" asked

one of the girls excitedly.

"Couldn't help it Miss; but I'm comin' to that. Well, you see he got

drunk and walloped us, and mother said she weren't going to slave

herself for a animal like him, so when he came home drunk she wouldn't

give him nothing to eat, and that made him furiouser.

"Mother said he might bang till he got tired, so she used to lock

herself in her room and take us with her, and then when he got tired

cussin' and swearin' he lay down and went to sleep. Mother worked hard

enough, I tell you, to get bread for us all: you see there was six of

us, and it took a powerful sight of wittles. She never said nothin'

about workin', though, only when father broke up the cheers and things,

and then she used to cry, and we all cried." Here Pete drew his hand

across his eyes, and the girls looked pityingly at him. In spite of the

pain caused by such recollections, they were so curious to know all,

that Pete was again urged to go on.

"Well, I helped de best way I could, for I was a little shaver then, and

Jim, he was next to me, he did little jobs for de white folks around.

But father he got worse, and wouldn't work no how, and he was always

gettin' took up, and then when they let him out of jail he was furiouser

than ever. One night, O laws! I most wish I'd never gone and been born

when I think of that, mother and all us children was asleep. Father had

been took up, and so we wasn't afeard of nothin'. It was a snowin' and a

blowin' sky high, and nobody could hear nothin' for the wind. All at

once I felt somethin' a movin' over my face, soft like, and then it made

for my throat. Then I ups and gives a spring, and run into mother's

room, but somethin' tripped me, and I fell down right on top of it. Then

it moaned out like, and--and I knowed it was mother a lying there, and

that somebody had killed her.

"I began to call 'murder' as hard as I could, but father, it was him did

it, got a hold of me again, and told me he'd soon shut up my fly trap. I

know'd he was goin' to do it, so I give an awful leap and sprung clear

over his head and right out in de snow. I know'd he wouldn't go far to

katch me, for he'd have enough to do to clear hisself, so I waded along

till I come to de man's house that Jim worked for.

"He had two awful fierce dogs, and one of them made a spring at my

throat while de other caught hold of my leg and took a bite out. De man,

hearin' de dogs, put his head out of de window and asked what was de

matter. So, as I couldn't speak, I just groaned, and he told de dogs to

lay down. Well, he came down and took me in de house, and all I could

say was 'Father,' and 'Murder.' So he called up de rest of de men folks

and took them over, but when they got there father was gone, and mother

and de baby was dead. Poor mother, she was holding de baby tight to her

bosom. De other childerns was screechin' and cryin', and de door was

wide open, and they was nearly frozen. Well, de poor house buried mother

and de baby, and took all de children but Jim and me, and de man Jim

worked for said he could stay thar as long as he wanted help. I hadn't

no place to go to, so I worked where I could, and that wasn't much

because it weren't de time of year for work, and I slept in sheds and

barns, wherever de folks would let me.

"Mother she was a good woman, and made us say our prayers every night,

but I didn't say 'em any more after that night, because I didn't see de

use of prayin' to God when he let my mother get killed. I hated God then

and I said so to Jim, only nobody else talked to me about them things,

and I didn't get a chance to tell 'em. It was a good many years that I

went on that way, only I got steady work. One summer de fellows said

thar was goin' to be a camp meetin' somewhar near, so I concluded to go

and see what it looked like. So I sets out on Sunday mornin', and when I

seen de white tents, and heard de people singin' and shoutin', I thought

it was de curiousest thing I ever seen. I got along tolerable well,

talkin' to de colored folks what waited on de tables, when all at once a

big horn was blowed, and everybody went off to preachin'.

"I went too, jest to look on, and when de preacher give out his text he

said, 'Thou God seest me.' I didn't think I need to be afeard, for I

didn't steal nor nothin', so I looked him square in de face. But by and

by I began to feel queer, and then I begin to look down on de ground. It

appeared as ef old Satan was a tryin' to drag me down to de bottomless

pit, and I know'd ef he'd git me thar once, he'd take care to hold on to

me pretty tight. I was afeard to look down, expecting every minute to be

swallowed up, and I couldn't look up for I know'd God was looking at me.

All at once something appeared to pull me down, and thar I lay while de

people was a singin' and a prayin' all around. After a good spell

somethin' spoke and says: 'Look up, Pete;' and I says, 'What's wantin'?'

Nobody didn't give no answer, so I begin to groan agin. Then somethin'

spoke agin louder, and says: 'Don't be afeard, Pete, it's me.' I kind of

looked up, but didn't see nobody lookin' at me, so I felt worse. Then

the third time somethin' says: 'Rise, Pete, your sins is all forgiven.'

I says, right out loud; 'Who says so?' and de same voice, only sweeter

and more lovin' says, 'De blessed Jesus; you needn't to be afeard any

more.'

"I tell you I jumped up quick, and began to laugh as hard as I could.

Some of de people said I was crazy, but de pious folks said I had got a

blessin'; and so I had, de blessedest blessin' ever I got. Dat's about

all, ladies and gentlemen," and Pete, bowing, betook himself to clearing

the table.

The Rev. John Jay, who with the rest, had been an attentive listener,

now said: "To be able to tell that last part, my friend, is worth more

than all the world to a man; 'for what will it profit a man if he gain

all the world and lose his own soul, or what will a man give in exchange

for his soul.'"

"That's so, sah," replied Pete with glistening eye, "he wouldn't be of

much account no how."

Several more hours delightfully spent in the woods, and then the coaches

were announced, and the homeward road taken, but not without a parting

word to Pete.

"Good-by," called out the girls as they drove off, and "Don't let old

Satan play any more pranks with you," said Guy, to all of which he

replied by bowing low, and saying: "Thank you, ladies; thank you

gentlemen; take keer of yourselves, and don't forgit to stop here de

next time." He watched until, not only their forms were lost sight of,

but until the dust which had been disturbed into thick clouds, had

settled; then turning toward the house, he began his favorite air:

"O, gib me de wings ob de angels."

[Illustration: Decoration]

'Our Guy' · 第 12 / 15 章