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Updated: June 24, 2025
Well, brother, Nance snorted right out thar, an' Polly Ann Sturgill's hand riz up jes once; an' I've heerd Jeb Somers say the next time he jumps out o' the Fryin' Pan he's a-goin' to take hell-fire 'stid o' Cutshin fer a place to light. Stranger, you furriners don't nuver seem to consider that a woman has always got the devil to fight in two people at once!
He's got a mighty good hawk eye fer spyin' out evil an' the gals; he can outholler ole Jim; an' IF," I says, "any IDEES ever comes to him, he'll be a hell-rouser shore but they ain't comin'!" An', so sayin', I takes my foot in my hand an' steps fer home. Stranger, them fellers over thar hain't seed much o' this world. Lots of 'em nuver seed the cyars; some of 'em nuver seed a wagon.
I 'uz done had nine un um in all, countin' de un en he wuz Cephus dat run off 'fo' de mah'age wid my bes' fedder baid made outer de gray goose fedders ole miss done throwed away 'caze dey warn' w'ite. Yes, Lawd, dar's done been nine un um, black en yaller, en dar ain' nuver been en ole 'un in de hull lot. Whew!
He nuver hu't me, but in co'se I wuz a-hollerin' ez hard ez I could stave it, 'cause I knowed dat wuz gwine mek him stop. Marse Chan he hed'n open he mouf long ez ole marster wuz tunin' 'im; but soon ez he commence warmin' me an' I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu'st out cryin', an' stept right in befo' ole marster an' ketchin' de whup, sed: "'Stop, seh!
"Dat night at supper he laugh an' talk, an' he set at de table a long time. Arfter ole marster went to bed, he went in de charmber an' set on de bed by 'im talkin' to 'im an' tellin' 'im 'bout de meetin' an' ev'ything; but he nuver mention ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin's name.
"Whew! he didn' git over dat thing, seh he nuver did git over it. "De war come on jes' den, an' Marse Chan wuz elected cap'n; but he wouldn' tek it. He said Firginia hadn' seceded, an' he wuz gwine stan' by her. Den dey 'lected Mr. Gordon cap'n. "I sut'n'y did wan' Marse Chan to tek de place, cuz I knowed he wuz gwine tek me wid 'im. He wan' gwine widout Sam.
The black woman turned and looked behind her to make sure that no one should overhear. Then, lowering her voice, she whispered: "Her grave 'ain't nuver settled yit, mistus. She been buried ever sence befo' Christmus, an' hit ain't evened down yit. An' dat's a shore sign of a onrestless sperit yas, 'm." Her face had grown suddenly anxious as she spoke.
"Oh, but, Dumps," interrupted Diddie, "you said she was dead." "No, I nuver said nuthin' 'bout her bein' dead," replied Dumps; "an' ef you wrote down that she's dead, then you wrote a story, 'cause she's livin' as anybody." "You said the spoon choked her to death," said Diddie.
But he held his peace while the girl went steadily on. "I oft-times takes myself ter task fer thet suspicion, because hit don't seem far ter feel thet-a-way an' not know no reason." She looked at him questioningly and very gravely, as one resolved upon a full but difficult confession. "I hain't nuver seed ye foller no reg'lar work. Ye hain't doin' nothin' hyar now but jest hangin' around."
"Well, I reckon if he's indicted only fer HELPIN' Steve, he ain't in much danger, fer they can't git him onless they git Steve, an' if thar IS one man no money can ketch that man is slick Steve Hawn. An' lemme tell ye: if the right feller was from the mountains an' only mountain folks knows it, they hain't NUVER goin' to find him out. Mebbe I was a leetle hasty mebbe I was."
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