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"You go in dar en get worn, Mars. George," said Blue Dave. "I'm gwine 'roun' by de High Bridge en tell um whar you is." "Why, you'll break yourself down," said George Deuham. "Ah, Lord, Mars. George!" said the negro, laughing, "time you bin in de woods long ez I is de four mile 'twix' yer en yo' house'll look mighty short. Go in dar, Mars. George, 'fo' you git col'!"
"Get that cord!" the deputy commanded. "Move that hand again, Scott Aimes, and I'll kill you. Here we are," he added, when the negro had tumbled off the bed-clothes and unfastened the cord. "Now cut it in four pieces." "Fur de Lawd's sake!" the woman shouted, "you ain' gwine treat er pusson datter way, is you? Fust da cuts de banjo strings an' den yere come de law an' cuts de bed cawd.
An' dey wuz a- drillin' an' a-drillin' all 'bout for a while, an' dey went 'long wid all de res' o' de army, an' I went wid Marse Chan an' clean he boots, an' look arfter de tent, an' tek keer o' him an' de hosses. An' Marse Chan, he wan' a bit like he use' to be. He wuz so solumn an' moanful all de time, at leas' 'cep' when dyah wuz gwine to be a fight.
"Gwine ter run all night, Gwine ter run all day, I'll bet my money on de bobtail nag, Oh, who's gwine ter bet on de bay?" Ben ran out into the hall. Graciella had changed her position and was sitting alone, perturbed in mind. "Come on, Graciella, let's get into the Virginia reel; it's the last one." Graciella obeyed mechanically. Ben, on the contrary, was unusually animated.
Aunt Comfort took off her silver spectacles, and gave the glasses of them a furious rub, then after essaying another look, exclaimed, "What, you don't mean dat 'ere little speck down at the bottom of it, does yer?" "Yes, Aunt Comfort, that little speck, as you call it, makes all the difference it makes O into Q." "Oh, go 'way, child," said she, indignantly, "you isn't gwine to fool me dat ar way.
"Why must yo' go back?" she demanded, with a sudden angry suspicion. "I thought yo' wuz gwine right along with me." "Why, no. I never thought o' that. I must go back and get my things before I go with you," said Shorty, as the readiest way of putting her off. "Plague take y'r things," she said. "Let 'em go. Yo' kin git plenty more jest as good from the next Yankee camp.
But I must have my babies that's part of the barg'in. No mill for them oh, Marse Ned, to think that whilst I was off, fixin' our home so nice to s'prize you all wuckin' my fingers off to git the home ready you let them devils get my babies! Git up heah" and she rapped the horse down the back with the lines. "Hurry up I'm gwine after 'em es soon es I git home."
And the crone handed her visitor a slip of paper on which a few words were written. "What dat mean?" "It means I am going away, mammy," pushing back his chair. "Gwine away!" she repeated. "When's yo' gwine?" "To-morrow; perhaps to-night even; down the river, auntie!" Rising and surveying himself in a mirror. "How long yo' gwine away foh?" "Perhaps forever, auntie!" "Not foh good, Mar's'r Edward?
"Ole Miss," she said, indignantly, "my Tom say that he can't get nary a triflin' nigger to come out hyeh to wuk, an' ef that cawnfiel' ain't ploughed mighty soon, it's gwine to bu'n up." "How many horses are there on the place, Mammy?" asked Dan. "Hosses!" sniffed the old woman. "They ain't NARY a hoss nothin' but two ole broken-down mules."
You-all hev bin mighty good tuh me, an' I ain't gwine tuh forgit dat you sed as how I mightn't be just as bad as dey paint me. Git into de leetle boat, young mars, an' I'll paddle yuh home," said the old negro, with alacrity. "Hold on a minute, George! I want to shoot you first," observed Will. "Gorry!
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