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"If you let her go to that dance there will be a riot, as sure as I am a foot high," declared Hippy Wingate, in which assertion most of the girls agreed with him. "Ah tells yuh, Ah did. Ah sawed him obah dar in de co'nfield," protested Washington Washington. "There you go again. You will saw the wrong person one of these days, then you will go to jail for life," rebuked Emma Dean.
Quick, tell me." He looked at me a moment longer before answering. "D' plantation? Obah dah, eight, ten mile, neah d' ribbah," and he made a faint little motion northward with his hand. The motion, slight as it was, brought on another hemorrhage. His eyes looked up into mine for a moment longer, and then, even as I gazed at them, grew fixed and glazed. Old Polete was dead.
"Mist Bentle obah dah," he said. "Velly much sick. Missa Bentle lib dah, all same gleen house." Stella ran across the way. The front door of the green cottage stood wide. An electric drop light burned in the front room, though it was broad day. When she crossed the threshold, she saw Linda sitting in a chair, her arms folded on the table-edge, her head resting on her hands.
"Kun'l Ma'sh 's obah at Frederick, sah," he answered, looking at me with astonished eyes. "Your mistress, then, quick, boy!" and as he turned toward the open door with a gesture of his hand, I hurried after him. There was a buzz of conversation in the room as we approached, but it ceased abruptly as we entered.
Yo' fust borned chile, too, yo' leetle gal whut you kissed an' cried obah fur joy when ole Dilsey fotch her to you; an' you tuck her in yo' arms, de tears runnin' down yo' cheeks an' yo' voice trem'lin' an' a-shakin', ez you thanked de good Lawd fur yo' purty black-eyed baby gal, an' fur bringin' yo' pore young wife safe frew her trial!"
His hearers were seemingly much affected, and interrupted him from time to time with shouts and groans and loud amens. "Dis is d' promise' lan'!" cried old Polete, waving his arms above his head in a wild ecstasy. "All we hab t' do is t' raise up an' take it from ouh 'pressahs. Ef we stays hyah slaves, it's ouh own fault. Now's d' 'pinted time. D' French is ma'chin' obah d' mountings t' holp us.
"Nothin' could n' been no wo'se 'n what I went frough. Kep' 'long d' ribbah, laike yo' said, but could n' git nothin' t' eat only berries growin' in d' woods. Got mighty weak, 'n' den las' night met d' Injuns." "Last night!" I cried. "Where, Polete?" "Obah dah 'long d' ribbah," he answered faintly.
I trembled to think what would happen should I never learn where the Indians were going, if Polete should never open his eyes again to tell me. But he did, at last, oh, how long it seemed! he did, and gazed up at me with a little smile. "Reckon it's all obah wid ole Polete, Mas' Tom," he whispered. "Where is this plantation, Polete?" I asked. "The plantation the Indians are going to attack.
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