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Updated: June 14, 2025
After a time the reconnoitring party came back. "Nothin' stirrin'," said the leader tersely. "I misdoubts," muttered another, casting a look of deep suspicion on Rick. "Thar air men out thar, I'm a-thinkin', hid somewhar." "They air furder 'n a mile off, ennyhow," returned the first speaker. "We never lef' so much ez a bush 'thout sarchin' of it."
"Kase white folks won't see good fine-terbacker lan' when dey walks ober it, tain't my fault, is it?" "No more tain't, Nimbus; but don't yer s'pose yer Marse Potem's smartly worried over it?" "La, no, I reckon not. He don't 'pear ter be, ennyhow.
I reckon it's all 'bout one an' de same ennyhow. It's a damn shame too. Dar, when de 'lection come las' time we put Marse Gleason in agin, kase we hadn't nary white man in de county dat was fitten for it an' could give de bond; an' of co'se dere couldn't no cullu'd man give it.
You boys have got me beaten on rifles and shotguns," he went on, producing from his hip pocket a flat, effective-looking automatic pistol of heavy caliber. "How are you on small arms?" The hunters shook their heads dubiously. "Never use 'em," said Deming. "Never could do much with that kind, ennyhow.
"Say his own chil'n air 'hearty feeders an' hard on shoe-leather? Takes a good deal o' goadin' ter git ploughin' enough fur the wuth o' feed out'n a toler'ble beastis like old Blaze-face thar, don't it, Neighbor? an' how is it a-goin' ter be with a human ez mebbe will hold back an' air sot agin plough-in' ennyhow, an' air sorter idle by profession?
'Pears like I'd known him all my days, jest ez 't did with her, arter the fust. I'm free to confess I take more ter these Mexicans than I do ter these low-down, driven Yankees, ennyhow, a heap more; but I can't stand bein' Senory'd! Yeow tell him, Jos. I s'pose thar's a word for 'aunt' in Mexican, ain't there? 'Pears like thar couldn't be no langwedge 'thout sech a word! He'll know what it means!
Rufe was roused to defend himself. "Hain't teched 'em, now!" he cried, acrimoniously. "Waal, sometimes ye air sorter loose-jointed in yer jaw, an' ain't partic'lar what ye say," rejoined his mother, politely. "I'll waste a leetle yerb-tea on ye, ennyhow." She started back into the room, and Rufe rose at once. This cruelty should not be practiced upon him, whatever might betide him at the tanyard.
She knit off her needle while, with his head still bent forward, Nehemiah Yerby sourly eyed her, feeling himself a loser with Brother Vickers, in that he did not have the reverend man's incumbency as a grievance. "He 'pears ter me ter see mo' pleasure in religion 'n penance, ennyhow," he observed, bitterly. "An' the Lord knows the bes' of us air sinners."
"Shore 'nough, when de court come on, dey tried me an' fotch me in guilty o' sellin' cotting alter sundown. De jedge, he lectured me powerful fer a while, an' den he ax me what I'd got ter say 'bout it. Dat's de way I understood him ter say, ennyhow. So, ez he wuz dat kind ez ter ax me ter speak in meetin', I 'llowed twa'n't no mo' dan polite fer me ter say a few words, yer know.
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