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Jack obeyed by stepping into the next room, though he kept watch over the dogs out of the corners of his eyes. "Now, yo' lie right down on de flo', Marse Benson," commanded the master of the situation. "Ah's gotter tie yo' up, befo' Ah can staht yo' back ter 'Napolis, but dere ain' no hahm gwine come ter yo'."
"Law, sir, the Baymouth road, to be sure! where they 'spects to take the 'Napolis boat, which 'ill be a nigh thing if they get there in time to meet it, dough dey has taken the sleigh an' the fast horses." Ishmael heard no more. Dropping his books, he darted out of the gate, and fled along the road taken by the travelers. Was it in the mad hope of overtaking the sleigh?
"But, ef yo' don' put dem t'ings on, yo'll sho'ly hab ter gwine back ter 'Napolis in yo' undahelo's. An' yo's gwine back right away, too, so, ef yo' wants tr gwine back weahin' ernuff clo'es " "Oh, well, then !" ground out the submarine boy, savagely enough. He attired himself in these tattered ends of raiment.
"Thought you was mad at me," he answered, "but you ain't, Davy. You've been very good-natured t' let me have your drum." He straightened. "I am ver' much obliged." "And where were you before you went to Nashville?" I said. "Charleston, 'Napolis... Philadelphia... everywhere," he answered. "Now," said he, "'mgoin' t' bed."
Rhoda asked. "I thought, maybe, you was old enough. Misc Somers, she see him up yer to Kint River a-crossin' to 'Napolis. He was a-swarin' at the cappen of the piriauger and a dammin' of the Eas'n Shu, and he said they wan't no good rudes in Marylan' nohow; that the Wes'n Shu was all red mud, an' the Eas'n Shu yaller mud, an' the bay was jus' pizen.
"Thought you was mad at me," he answered, "but you ain't, Davy. You've been very good-natured t' let me have your drum." He straightened. "I am ver' much obliged." "And where were you before you went to Nashville?" I said. "Charleston, 'Napolis . . . Philadelphia . . . everywhere," he answered. "Now," said he, "'mgoin' t' bed."
"Sis Cynthy, we-all in trebbilation and we gotter holp dis hyer pore chile. She lak fer ter breck her heart 'bout de Empress and she sho will if dis hyer colt come ter harm. Please, ma'am, gimme a basin o' fresh, warm milk. Bud he done gone down ter 'Napolis fer a nussin' bottle, but dat baby yonder gwine faint an' die fo' dat no 'count nigger git back wid dat bottle. I knows HIM, I does."
Jack obeyed by stepping into the next room, though he kept watch over the dogs out of the corners of his eyes. “Now, yo’ lie right down on de flo’, Marse Benson,” commanded the master of the situation. “Ah’s gotter tie yo’ up, befo’ Ah can staht yo’ back ter ’Napolis, but dere ain’ no hahm gwine come ter yo’.”
“I’ll be hanged if I’ll put on such duds!” quivered Jack. “Jes’ as yo’ please, ob co’se, Marse Benson,” came the answer, from above. “But, ef yo’ don’ put dem t’ings on, yo’ll sho’ly hab ter gwine back ter ’Napolis in yo’ undahclo’s. An’ yo’s gwine back right away, too, so, ef yo’ wants ter gwine back weahin’ ernuff clo’es—” “Oh, well, then—!” ground out the submarine boy, savagely enough.
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