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Everything is all right. 'Gena and the children are well, and have been looking for you every day since you went away." "Bress God! Bress God! I don't want nuffin' mo' !" said Nimbus. He would have gone on, in a wild rhapsody of delight, but both Hesden and Mollie interposed and compelled him to desist and eat. Ah! it was a royal meal that the poor fugitive had spread before him.
So I rested dis yer ole gal," patting the carbine in his hand, "agin a tree an' jes slung a bullet squar ober dere heads. Ye see, I dassent shoot too low, fer fear ob hurtin' some of my fren's. 'D'ye heah dat shot, 'Gena? Lord! how de ole gal did holler. 'Pears like I nebber hear a cannon sound so big. De Ku Kluckers 'peared ter hear it too, fer dey comed squar outen h'yer inter de big road.
De church an' school-house up dar on de knoll; Nimbus' house jes about a hundred yards furder on, 'cross de road; an' on de side ob de hill de 'backer-barn; you a teachin' an' a preachin' an' Nimbus makin' terbacker, an' Gena a-takin' comfort on de porch, an' de young uns gittin' larnin'! Wh-o-o-p! Bre'er 'Liab, yer's a great man, shuah!"
There is no reference in its pages to Edgar Stillman-Kelley, Miss Gena Branscombe, Louis Adolphe Coerne, Henry Holden Huss, T. Carl Whitmer, Arthur Farwell, Arthur Foote, or A. J. Goodrich. I am unfamiliar with the causes contributing to this book's comparative obscurity; perhaps, indeed, they are similar to those responsible for the early failure of "Sister Carrie."
"Wal, 'Gena?" "Is you hurt, honey?" "Nary bit. How should I be? They run away ez quick ez I come. Did they 'buse you, 'Gena?" "None of enny 'count," she answered, cautiously, for fear of raising his anger to a point beyond control "only jest a tryin' ter make me tell whar you was you an' 'Liab." "Whar's yer clo'es, honey?" "In de house, dar, only what I tore, getting away from 'em."
Bress God, she's alive! Dar ain't no need ter ax fer 'Gena ner de little ones now; I knows dey's all right! Miss Mollie's done tuk keer o' dem, else she wouldn't be h'yer now. Bress de Lord, I sees de deah little lamb once mo'." "There, there!" said Mollie gently. "You must not talk any more now. I have brought you something to eat. You are tired and hungry. You must eat now.
"Co'se I'd like ter know jes whar Nimbus is, but I know he's all right. I'se a heap fearder 'bout Bre'er 'Liab, fer I 'llow it's jes which an' t'other ef we ever sees him again. But what troubles me now, Miss Mollie, is 'bout myseff." "About yourself?" asked Mollie, in surprise. "'Bout me an' my chillens, Miss Mollie," was the reply. "Why, how is that, 'Gena?"
Dem folks won't fergit, an' 'Gena won't nebber be safe ennywhar dat dey kin come, night ner day. What will I do, Miss Mollie, what will I do? Yer knows Nimbus 'll 'llow fer 'Gena ter take keer ob herself an' de chillen an' de plantation, till he comes back, er sends fer me, an' I dassent stay, not 'nudder day, Miss Mollie! What'll I do? What'll I do?"
My God!" he continued, as he raised his friend's head and saw that he had lapsed again into insensibility, "my God! 'Gena, he's dead!" He withdrew the hand he had placed under the shoulders of the prostrate man. It was covered with blood. "Sh sh! You hear dat, Nimbus?" asked Lugena, in a choked whisper, as she started up and peered toward the road. "Oh, Nimbus, run! run! Do, honey, do!
I wuz powerful homesick, an' wanted ter h'year from 'Gena an' de chillen, an' ef I'd hed money 'nough left, I'd a come straight back h'yer; but what with travellin' an' doctors' bills, an' de like, I hadn't nary cent. Den I couldn't leave my ole mammy, nuther. She'd hed a hard time sence de wah, a-wukkin' fer herself all alone, an' I wuz boun' ter help her all I could.
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