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Updated: June 8, 2025
"They wan't no real sense ner reason in my hangin' around, jest gittin' under foot," he stated thoughtfully. "I done about all I was called on to do, didn't I? Why, I reckon when all's said and done, I jest about won that fight myself! For if I hadn't a-come he wouldn't never a-got that ribbon. And Godfrey, but didn't that wake him!"
"S'posin'," he made insolent suggestion, "I don't see fit ter do nuther one ner t'other? S'posin' I jest tells ye ter go ter hell?" Parish had anticipated that question and was prepared, if he were forced so far, to back threat with execution.
Grace and Skeets were not even awakened; Mrs. Hooper did not leave her room. As the constable turned a light on the handcuffed prisoner he remarked: "That's the chap all right. Description fits. He'll bring that five hundred all right." "A reward; is it?" said the watchman. "An' don't ye fergit who gits it. Not me, ner you, Constable, but the bye here." He laid his hand on Gus's shoulder.
"Miss Louise is wiser ner I be," said the old fellow simply; "I'm safe to trust to her jedgment, I guess." There was a general laugh, at this, and they began to clamber aboard the wagon and to stow away beneath the seats the luggage the colored porter was bringing out. "Stop at the Junction House, Thomas," said Mr. Merrick as they moved away.
His blow fell not on the colored man's head, but on his upraised arm, and the next moment the cane was wrested from his hands, and the recent slave stood over his former master as he lay upon the floor, where he had fallen or been thrown, and said: "Don't yer try dat, Marse Desmit; I won't bar it dat I won't, from no man, black ner white.
He did n' know w'at ter do wid Tenie: fus' he thought he 'd put her in de po'house; but fin'ly, seein' ez she did n' do no harm ter nobody ner nuffin, but des went 'roun' moanin', en groanin', en shakin' her head, he 'cluded ter let her stay on de plantation en nuss de little nigger chilluns w'en dey mammies wuz ter wuk in de cotton-fiel'.
"But you must have another name?" "No I hain't. Jes' wore dat fer twenty-odd years, an' nebber hed no udder." "Who do you work for?" "Wuk for myself, sah." "Well, on whose land do you work?" "Wuks on my own, sah. Oh, I libs at home an' boa'ds at de same place, I does. An' my name's Nimbus, jes' straight along, widout any tail ner handle." "What was your old master's name?"
"I wa'n't good enough to be your knight, was I?" he accused her in a hushed and vibrant voice. "I I don't know enough, ner I can't talk good enough, to be your knight. I ain't good enough fer you! But I'm a-goin' to be do you hear? I'm a-goin' to be an' when I am . . . when I am . . . then I'll come back to you!" This time, rigid as a lance, he disappeared from sight.
I 'lowed I'd like ter hev ye go over thar with me." Her voice was trembling with white-hot indignation. "Didn't ye hear Samson say ye wasn't never ter speak ter me?" "Ter hell with Samson!" he ripped out, furiously. "Nobody hain't pesterin' 'bout him. I don't allow Samson, ner no other man, ter dictate ter me who I keeps company with. I likes ye, Sally.
"What has it got in it?" broke in some one; "molasses, kerosene, or train-oil?" "Well, I lay she's loaded, boss. I ain't shuk her up sence I drapt in, but I lay she's loaded." "Yes," said the agricultural editor, "and it's the meanest bug- juice in town regular sorghum skimmings." "Dat's needer yer ner dar," responded Uncle Remus.
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