United States or Brazil ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"Nebber fear, mass' Edwad, always get nuff to eat; no fear for dat. Da poor runaway hab some friend on de plantations. Beside he steal nuff to keep 'im 'live hya! hya!" "Oh!" "Gabr'l no need steal now, 'ceptin' de roasting yeers and de millyuns. See! what Zip fetch im! Zip come las night to de edge ob de woods an' fetch all dat plunder. But, mass', you 'skoose me. Forgot you am hungry.
He not de fust darkie who hid in dis old cypress, nor de fust time for Gabr'l neider. He runaway afore, dat war when he libbed with Mass' Hicks, 'fore ole mass' bought him. He nebber had 'casion to run away from old Mass 'Sancon.
I have been bitten by a rattlesnake." I bared my arm, and showed the wound and the swelling. "Ho! dat indeed! sure 'nuff it are da bite ob de rattlesnake. Doctor no good for dat. Tobacc'-juice no good. Gabr'l best doctor for de rattlesnake. Come 'long, young mass'!" "What! you are going to guide me, then?" "I'se a gwine to cure you, mass'." "You?"
I knew that a venomous serpent had bitten me; and that knowledge may have excited my imagination to an extreme susceptibility. Whether the symptoms did in reality exist, I suffered them all the same. My fancy had all the painfulness of reality! My companion directed me to be seated. Moving about, he said, was not good. He desired me to be calm and patient, once more begging me to "truss Gabr'l."
With admiring eyes I looked for some moments on this bold black man this slave-hero. I might have gazed longer, but the burning sensation in my arm reminded me of my perilous situation. "You will guide me to Bringiers?" was my hurried interrogatory. "Daren't, mass'." "Daren't! Why?" "Mass' forgot I'se a runaway. White folk cotch Gabr'l cut off him arm." "What? Cut off your arm?"
"If you do not guide me, then I must die." "Die! die! why for mass' say dat?" "Because I am lost. I cannot find my way out of the forest. If I do not reach the doctor in less than twenty minutes, there is no hope. O God!" "Doctor! mass' Edwad sick? What ail um? Tell Gabr'l. If dat's da case, him guide de brack man's friend at risk ob life. What young mass' ail?" "See!
The old shirt itself was stained with black blotches that had once been red the blood that had oozed out during the infliction! The sight sickened me, and called forth the involuntary utterance "Poor fellow!" This expression of sympathy evidently touched the rude heart of the Bambarra. "Ah, mass'!" he continued, "you flog me with hoss-whip dat nuff'n! Gabr'l bress you for dat.
Word Of The Day