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"Shucks! Dat ain' no fun!" Zack contemptuously asserted. "Knuckles is cu'ious things, knuckles is; an' dar ain' no sense gittin' all riled up 'bout 'em, no way. Didn' I never tell you 'bout de bantam hen dat got her knuckles scyared up wid de water snake?" "No, you didn't! But tell me first 'bout mine!" The little boy was trotting to keep up now, and the old man lengthened his strides.
En bein' ez Jeff didn' hab nuffin' ter gib Aun' Peggy, Chloe gun i'm a silber dollah en a silk han'kercher fer ter pay her wid, fer Aun' Peggy nebber lak ter wuk fer nobody fer nuffin'. "So Jeff slip' off down ter Aun' Peggy's one night, en gun 'er de presents he brung, en tol' er all 'bout 'im en Chloe en Hannibal, en ax' 'er ter he'p 'im out.
I'se got dat same wife today. She was born a slave, too. I didn' have no chillun, but my wife did. She had one gal-chil'. She lives at Westonia an' is de mammy o' ten chillun. She done better'n us done. I'se got a lot o' gran'-chillun. What does you call de nex' den? Lemme see, great gran'-chillun, dat's it. "I never did b'lieve in no ghos' an' hoodoos an' charms.
I congratulate you on your escape from the savages. Scalp all sound, eh? Didn' lose your back-hair? By George! he! he! he!" And he began to show symptoms of dancing, as he sang: "John Brown, he had a little Injun; John Brown, he had a little Injun; Dave Sawney had a little Injun; One little Injun gal! "Yah! yah! Well, well, Mr. Shawnee, glad to see you back." "Looky hyer.
"Lookahere," he said, taking a step nearer me; "in oinest now, on your woid: Didn' more'n half them Jeanne d'Arc tamales live at that hotel wunst?" "Nobody of historical importance or any other kind of importance, so far as I know ever lived there," I informed him. "The older portions of the inn once belonged to an ancient farm-house, that is all."
We digged a hole big enough to set a small house in. John, he kep' bearin' on de rod, an' de rod it kep' goin' down. Den de rod at las' struck sumpn; and we was so glad, thinkin' we'd struck de pot! Every one was rejoiced! We didn' talk, but jes fling up de dirt! An' when we dig down dere, sah, what you spose 'twas. Nothin' but a big ole cow's horn.
"An' didn' I never tell you 'bout de chicken hawk as busted his knuckles all up tryin' to fly off wid de weather-vane down on de stable dar?" "Oh, no, Uncle Zack! But tell me 'bout mine, first!" The old negro stopped stock still and looked down with a frown. "You'se de mos' pestiferistes' pusson on dis heah place!"
"Didn't even want politeness, I suppose after runnin' here hot foot with the news that made you rich an' him a poor man! Oh, you're past all patience! . . . Who should know what he wanted an' didn't get I, that had my eyes on his face, or you, that sat like a stuck pig, glowerin' at the carpet?" "Gently, missy! . . . There there didn' seem anything to say."
We neber stayed long, tho', fer lots of de niggers runned 'way to de Free State an' Marse Andrew didn' lak dat. "It was when he brought us back to Huntsville dat I was sol'. All de white folks was a gittin' scared dey was gwineter lose dey slaves an' dere was a pow'ful lot er nigger sellin' goin' on den. Marse Ewing bought me frum him an' car'ied me to his plantation near Aberdeen, Mississippi.
An', fussly, we'll pursidder dis: IS HE ABLE TER DO IT? Is he able fur ter kill marster's niggers wid de s'ord an' de famine? My bredren, he is able! Didn' he prize open de whale's mouf, an' take Jonah right outn him? Didn' he hol' back de lions wen dey wuz er rampin' an' er tearin' roun' atter Dan'l in de den?
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