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'Ca'se li'l' black Mose he come' a-fumblin' an' a-rattlin' at de do' jes whin dat ghost-tale mos' skeery, an' yiver'body gwine imaginate dat he a ghost a-fumblin' an' a-rattlin' at de do'. Yas, sah. So li'l' black Mose he turn' he white head, an' he look' roun' an' peer' roun', an' he say': "Whut you all skeered fo'?" 'Ca'se ef anybody skeered, he want' to be skeered, too. Dat 's natural.
"But when Mill'cent fust got so she could tell it, 'peared ter me ez Em'ry Keen an fund it ez much news ez the rest o' we-uns. Mill'cent jes' drapped stone-dead, accordin' ter all accounts, an' he an' the t'other young folks flung water in her face till she kem out'n her faint; an' jes' then they hearn the wagin a-rattlin' along the road, an' they stopped it an' fetched her home in it.
Colfax fainted. "Oh Miss Jinny, ain't you gwineter Glencoe? Ain't you gwineter flee away? Every fambly on dis here street's gwine away is packin' up fo' de country. Doan't you hear 'em, Miss Jinny? What'll your pa say to Ned of he ain't make you clear out! Doan't you hear de carridges a-rattlin' off to de country?"
"Hist, father! 'tis only me Adam." "A' right! a' right!" stammered Zebedee, too dazed to take in the whole matter at once. "What is it, lad, eh? They darned galoots ha'n't a tracked 'ee, have 'em? By the hooky! but they'm givin' 't us hot and strong this time, Adam: they was trampin' 'bout inside here a minit agone, tryin' to keep our sperrits up by a-rattlin' the bilboes in our ears.
The tompions was taken out; the sponge, rammer, crows and handspikes placed in readiness, and all awaited eagerly the word for the action to begin. "'Tis about time we opened our mouths at 'em," said Bulger. "The next bolus they send us as like as not will bring the spars a-rattlin' about our ears.
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