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Updated: June 1, 2025
Wal, atter I told him dat, an' he'd helped me hunt up de chillens dat wuz scattered in de co'n, an' 'bout one place an' anudder, Berry he 'llows dat he'll go an' try ter fin' Nimbus an' 'Liab. So he goes off fru de co'n wid dat ar won'ful gun dat jes keeps on a-shootin' widout ary load.
"Then why didn't you take your old mahs'r's name, like de rest, and not have all dis trouble?" "Now, 'Liab, yer knows thet I won't nebber do dat." "But why not, Nimbus?" "Kase I ain't a-gwine ter brand my chillen wid no sech slave-mark! Nebber! You hear dat, 'Liab?
Nimbus returned to the porch of Eliab's house where the preacher sat thoughtfully scanning the summons and capias. "What you tink ob dis ting, 'Liab?" "It is part of a plan to break you up, Nimbus," was the reply. "Dar ain't no sort ob doubt 'bout that, 'Liab," answered Nimbus, doggedly, "an' dat ole Sheriff Gleason's jes' at de bottom ob it, I do b'lieve.
"Now don't you go ter sayin' nuffin' o' dat kind, ole feller. I'se been a-tinkin' ebber sence I got dat money dat it's jes ez much 'Liab's ez'tis mine. Ef it hadn't been fer you I'd nebber knowed 'nough ter go ober to de Yanks, when ole Mahs'r send me down ter wuk on de fo'tifications, an' so I neber git it at all. So now, yer see, Bre'er 'Liab, you's gwine ter keep dat 'ere money.
It was wielded by stalwart hands, and ere long the glare from without shone through the double planking. "Hello, 'Liab 'Liab Hill!" cried a voice at the opening which seemed to the quiet listener within strangely like that of Sheriff Gleason. "Damn me, boys, if I don't believe you've killed the nigger, shooting in there. Hadn't we better just set the cabin afire and let it burn?"
I don't know whar, but it's somewhar not fur from 'Liab dat yer may be shore on, honey. Now, yer see, Miss Mollie, dar's two or tree tings makes me tink so. In de fus' place, yer know, I see dat feller, Berry, atter all dis ting wuz ober, an' talked wid him an' told him dat Nimbus lef all right, an' dat he tuk 'Liab wid him, an' dat Bre'er 'Liab wuz mighty bad hurt.
The sheriff nodded awkwardly to the ladies, as if doubtful how much deference it would do to display, said, "How d'ye, 'Liab?" to the crippled colored man, laid his saddle-bags on the floor, and took the chair assigned to him.
"Yes, I'se changed, ob co'se; but not as you hez, Bre'er 'Liab. Dis h'yer ole shell hez changed. Nimbus couldn't tote yer roun' like he used. I'se hed a hard time a hard time, 'Liab, an' I ain't nuffin' like de man, I used ter be; but I hain't changed inside like you hez. I'se jes de same ole Nimbus dat I allus wuz jes de same, only kinder broke down in sperrit, Bre'er 'Liab.
It allers seemed ter me dat I wouldn't ax fer nothin' better." "But what yer gwine ter do wid de ole house?" asked Eliab. "Wal, Bre'er Liab," said Nimbus with a queer grimace, "I kinder 'llowed dat I'd ler you hab dat ar ter do wid jes 'bout ez yer like." "Oh, Bre'er Nimbus, yer don't mean dat now?" "Don't I? wal, you jes see ef I don't.
Nobody don't know it any better. Now, I don't know nuffin' 'bout books an' de scripter an' sech-like, only what I gits second-hand no more'n you does 'bout sojerin', fer instance. But I tell ye what, 'Liab, I does know 'bout terbacker, an' I knows all about it, too. I kin jes' gib you an' Marse Hesden, an' aheap mo' jes like you uns, odds on dat, an' beat ye all holler ebbery time.
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