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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I was always told s'ciety in Noo York was dreffle refined an' high-toned," said Tuck. "We're lookin' to go there one o' these days, Nip an' me." "Oh, you won't see no Belt business where you'll go, miss. De man dat wants you'll want bad, an' he'll summer you on Long Island er at Newport, wid a winky-pinky silver harness an' an English coachman. You'll make a star-hitch, you an' yer brother, miss.
She did not answer, and I crept by Hannibal and then over Pomp, who gave me a hug, his teeth chattering as he said "Oh, I say, Mass' George, I so dreffle cold. Water right up a-top." The next moment I was seated again on the ridge, feeling that the water really was right up to the top, as Sarah's cold arms closed round me, and her wet face was pressed to mine as she kissed me.
"Mass' George tiddle lil nigger; now lil nigger tiddle Mass' George." "Why, Pomp," I said, sitting up and staring, "I I thought I was at home." "No, Mass' George. Home long a way. Been sleep, and Pomp been sleep." I shivered, got up, and stamped about. "Yes, Mass' George, um dreffle cole." "Here, get the powder and shot, and let's go back." Pomp shook his head. "No good go now.
I 've tried it on dreffle bad folks, an' it alters done 'em good. But" so almost all his simple talk ended "I wish I could begin to be a fisher o' men. I 'm gettin' on now, I 'm nigh seventy, an' I aint got much time, ye see." One afternoon in July there came over Franconia Notch one of those strangely sudden tempests which sometimes visit that mountain country.
Oh!" came in wild yells of pain from Pomp, as I heard a dull thud just behind me; and turning sharply, there was the boy dancing about in his agony, and tugging to free his hand from an arrow which had fallen and gone right through, pinning it to one of the oars. "Stop! Don't struggle, boy," cried my father, laying his gun across the box. "But um hurt dreffle, massa.
"It isn't," I said, opening my eyes and looking from under the boat-sail that made our tent, and seeing the stars burning brightly. "I neb see such dreffle man," whispered Pomp, for fear of rousing my father. "Get late. Sun get up soon 'fore we get dah. Mass' Morgan an' Pomp fader gone down to de boat, and carry big bag somefin to eat.
"He's right much of a nice lookin' gemman. I seed him this ebenin' a ridin' wid Mahs' Junius." "P'raps Miss Annie is glad," said the ole woman, "coz she don' know. But I ain't." "Wot's de reason fur dat?" inquired Isham. "It's a pow'ful dreffle thing dat Miss Annie's husband's done come down h'yar. He don' know ole miss." "Wot's de matter wid ole miss?" asked Isham, in a quick tone.
"We don't want them yet, and I'll shoot them when we do." "But 'pose dey not dah to shoot when you want um, Mass' George. I dreffle hungry now." "Ah," I said at last, "our wallet is getting heavy. Let's pick out a place, and have some lunch." Pomp pricked up his ears, as he generally did when he heard a new word, and this was one ready for him to adopt.
Lil fire two lil fire twent lil fire," he cried, excitedly. "'Mell um cook suffum. Come 'long, Mass' George, I dreffle hungly."
"I tought Mass' George play trick. Hi! Mass' George, you dah?" "Yes," I said. "What is it?" "You got anyfing to eat? I so dreffle hungry." "No, Pomp," I replied, sadly; "nothing at all." "You been sleep, sah?" he continued, turning to my father. "No, my lad, no," replied my father, good-humouredly, and I heard the boy yawn loudly.
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