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Oh, please now, you see? nutt'n' but a po' nigga's dr oh! fo' de love o' God, Miché Jean-Baptiste, don' open dat ah box! Y'en a rien du tout la-dans, Miché Jean-Baptiste; du tout, du tout! Oh, my God! Miché, on'y jis teck dis-yeh t'ing off'n my laig, ef yo' please, it's bit'n' me lak a dawg! if you please, Miché! Oh! you git kill' if you open dat ah box, Mawse Jean-Baptiste!
Did the Colonel know it? 'Oh, yas; Moye cum de possum ober de Cunnel, and make him b'lieve Sam war bad. De Cunnel dunno de hull ob dat story. 'Why didn't you tell him? The Colonel trusts you. 'Twudn't hab dun no good; de Cunnel wud hab flogged me for tellin' on a wite man. Nigga's word ain't ob no account. 'What is the story about Sam? 'You won't tell dat I tole you, massa?
He likes de oak, an' de poplum, an' de scaly-bark. Gosh! but he am dar! continued Abe, raising his voice, and looking outward `Look yonder, massa! He had climb by de great vine. Dat's right, Pomp! you am right after all, and dis nigga's a fool. Hee up, ole dog! hee up!
"Guy, massa, who ever heard of a nigga's toastin' white folks," replied Jeff, showing his whole range of ivories. "Must give us something." "Well, den, massa, if I must, I must. Here's hopin' you'll never be less de brack man's fren dan now you am."
"Sech an attack o' rheumaticses as dis ole nigga's gwine to hab beats all! Any how, I ben an sabed de lobsta. Loss me ole hat, but didn't car a mite fer dat so long as I sabed de lobsta." "All right," cried Bart; and at this the two boys pulled away from the rocks and rounded the point. As they came into the sight of those who were waiting on the top of the cliff, a shout of joy arose.
His voice was full of tears, and when he said "Amen," and Nimbus rose from his knees and put forth his hand to help him as he scrambled upon his bench, the cripple caught the hand and pressed it close, as he said: "Bress God, Nimbus, I'se seen de time often an' often 'nough when I'se hed ter ax de Lor' ter keep me from a-envyin' an' grudgin' de white folks all de good chances dey hed in dis world; but now I'se got ter fight agin' covetin' anudder nigga's luck.
"And was that why you ran from me?" "Ye, mass'; ob course it war." "Then you are " "Am runaway; ye, mass', jes so runaway. Don't mind tell you. Gabr'el truss you He know you am poor nigga's friend. Look-ee-dar." As he uttered this last phrase, he pulled off the scanty copper-coloured rag of a shirt that covered his shoulders, and bared his back before my eyes! A horrid sight it was.
He war by here when I was curin' up dis barn, an' stopped in an' looked at it, an' axed a power ob questions, an' got Lugena ter bring him out some buttermilk an' a corn pone. Den he went up an' sot an hour in de school an' sed ez how he war mighty proud ter see one of his ole nigga's gittin' on dat er way." "Wal, now, that was kind of him, wasn't it?"
"Couldn't you have waded through it before it got too high?" "Waded? Not a wade; de water was rough an deep, an de bottom was stones dat I'd slipped oba an almost broke my ole head, sides bein drownded as dead as a herrin. Why, what you tink dis ole nigga's made ob? I'm not a steam injine, nor a mowin machine, nor a life boat. I'm ony a ole man, an shaky in de legs too, mind I tell you."
I never saw a more hideous being in my life, and when he had flung my luggage upon the floor, he sank into a chair, and glared wofully into my face, breathing like one about to expire. "Young Moss," said he, "cant you give a po' soul a drop o' sperits? Do for de good Lord's sake! Do, Moss, fo' de po' nigga's life. Do! do! Moss."
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