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Updated: June 3, 2025
You know my idea is that the chief end of man is to go b'ah hunting, and he oughtn't to be guilty of contributory negligence by staying at home too much. There's been no one to run the place, and I haven't cared. Least said about it, the best, I reckon." "Who is your housekeeper now?" asked Eddring. "No one, unless you call it that girl Delphine that used to work for Mrs. Ellison.
Do you suppose for one minute that I'm going to allow to get away from me the only woman I ever did see that could cook b'ah meat fit to eat? Well, I reckon not! Besides, what she can do to most anything is simply enough to scare you.
Why, man, I'm just beginning to enjoy life. We're going to make a big crop of cotton this year, I've got the best pack of b'ah-dogs I ever did have yet, and there's more b'ah out in the woods than you ever did see." "I suppose your ladies leave you once in a while, to go down to New Orleans?" inquired Eddring. "No, sir! New Orleans no more," said Blount.
Fer, if Cunnel Blount don't git no b'ah look out den, I kin tell you." "Gets his dander up, eh?" "Dandah dandah! You know him? Th'ain't no better boss, but ef he goes out huntin' b'ah an' don't get no b'ah why, then th' ain't no reason goin' do foh him." "Is Mrs. Blount at home, Bill?" "Th'ain't no Mrs. Blount, and I don't reckon they neveh will be. Cunnel too busy huntin' b'ah to git married.
"He seems to make a sort of specialty of bear, doesn't he? Got a pretty good pack, eh?" "Pack? I should say we has! We got the bestest b'ah pack in Miss'ippi, er in de whole worl'. We sho' is fixed up fer huntin'. But, now, look heah, two three days ago the railroad kyahs done run ovah a fine colt whut de Cunnel was raisin' fer a saddle hoss kilt it plumb daid. That riled him a heap.
After his midday meal, Colonel Calvin Blount, wandering aimlessly and none too well content about the yard, came across one of his servants, who was in the act of unrolling the fresh bear hide and spreading it out to dry. He kicked idly at a fold in the hide. "Look here, Jim," he said suddenly, "Mr. Decherd killed this b'ah, didn't he?" "Yassah," said Jim.
He's ouah bestest b'ah-dog, but he got so blame biggoty, las' time he was out, stuck his foot right intoe a b'ah's mouth. Now, Hec's lef' home, an' me lef home to 'ten' to Hec. How kin Cunnel Blount git ary b'ah 'dout me and Hec along? I'se right 'spondent, dat's whut I is." "Well, now, that's too bad," said the stranger, with a smile. "Too bad? I reckon it sho' is.
"Old Bess, that's the Cunnel's favoright dawg, you-all know, she done have 'leven puppies las' night." "That so?" "Yassah. Cunnel, he's off down on the Sun-flowah." "Um-h-h." "Yassah; got most all his dawgs wid 'im. We goin' to have b'ah meat now for sho'," this with a wide grin. "Reckon so," said the visitor. "When's Cunnel coming back, you reckon?"
'Co'se it is, says I. Then he 'lowed he'd give me two dollahs ef I said he was de man dat killed de b'ah." Blount stared reflectively at a knot-hole in the side of the barn. "Jim," said he, at length, "give me the two dollars. I'll take care of that." So saying, he swung on his heel and turned away. The day was now far advanced, and the great white house had grown silent.
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