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The next minute we heard a faint halloo below us near the edge of a small swamp. A man was waving his hat and shouting: "Eve'ybody come yer!" Fitz started on a run, and the agent and I followed on the double-quick. At the end of a crooked stone wall, half surrounded by water, was a great spreading oak, its branches reaching half way across the narrow marsh.
"Ef a slave died de white folks wouldn't let nobody set up wid de body 'cept de niggers ob dat plantation, but urthur slaves would slip in atter dark, set up en den slip back ter dere plantation 'fore day." "W'en I useter go ter camp meetin' dey had big dinnahs en spread hit on de groun'. Dey preached, sung, shouted en eve'ybody had a good time."
"Extend him and let's see what he's got." "Extend him so's eve'ybody kin see whut he's got!" mumbled Mose rebelliously. "Huh!" In the shadow of the paddock Old Man Curry came upon his friend, the Bald-faced Kid, a youth of many failings, frankly confessed. The Kid sat upon the fence, nursing an old-fashioned silver stop watch, for he was "clocking" the morning workouts.
"'No, eve'ybody 's skeered er a wolf, en I doan want nobody ter be skeered er me. "'Shill I turn you ter a mawkin'-bird? "'No, a hawk mought ketch me. I wanter be turnt inter sump'n w'at'll stay in one place. "'I kin turn you ter a tree, sez Tenie. 'You won't hab no mouf ner years, but I kin turn you back oncet in a w'ile, so you kin git sump'n ter eat, en hear w'at 's gwine on.
"But 'long 'bout time fer de grapes ter come on de scuppernon' vimes, dey 'peared ter come a change ober 'em; de leaves withered en swivel' up, en de young grapes turn' yaller, en bimeby eve'ybody on de plantation could see dat de whole vimya'd wuz dyin'. Mars Dugal' tuk'n water de vimes en done all he could, but 't wa'n' no use: dat Yankee had done bus' de watermillyum.
Dat's w'at he'd a bin." "YOU'VE been looking like you were rather under the weather for the past week or two, Uncle Remus," said a gentleman to the old man. "You'd be sorter puny, too, boss, if you'd er bin whar I bin." "Where have you been?" "Pear ter me like eve'ybody done year 'bout dat. Dey ain't no ole nigger my age an' size dat's had no rattliner time dan I is." "A kind of picnic?"
"Miss Annie, honey, eve'ybody busy wid his own wheat an', moreover, Marse Wes ain' gwi' let any stranger come on dis place an' cut his wheat you know he ain'." There seemed nothing more to say. In the darkness tears were slowly trickling down Annie's cheeks, and she could not stop them. "Well good-night." "Good-night, my lamb, good-night.
"Sandy en Tenie hadn' b'en libbin' tergedder fer mo' d'n two mont's befo' Mars Marrabo's old uncle, w'at libbed down in Robeson County, sent up ter fine out ef Mars Marrabo couldn' len' 'im er hire 'im a good han' fer a mont' er so. Sandy's marster wuz one er dese yer easy-gwine folks w'at wanter please eve'ybody, en he says yas, he could len' 'im Sandy.
Dey tell me a 'oman is got a right to go in mo'nin' for her husband's kin anyway; but of co'se, come down to it, she warn't no blood-kin to Pompey, nohow. Howsomever, eve'ybody knows a widder or a widderer is intitled to wear all de mo'nin' dey is; an' his wife, why, she's intitled to a equal sheer in it, if she choose to seize her rights.
Co'se eve'ybody laks a drap now an' den, but it 'peared ter 'fec' Ben mo'd'n it did yuther folks. He didn' hab much chance dat-a-way, but eve'y now an' den he'd git holt er sump'n' somewahr, an' sho's he did, he'd git out'n de narrer road. Mars Marrabo kep' on wa'nin' 'm 'bout it, an' fin'lly he tol' 'im ef he eber ketch 'im in dat shape ag'in he 'uz gwineter gib 'im fo'ty.
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