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Updated: May 5, 2025
Sure 'nough, dey did fetch me to dis island and dey did sell me for a slabe," said old Katie. "But hadn't you a tongue in your head? Couldn't you have told the people here that you were free?" demanded Judge Merlin impatiently. "An' sure, didn't I do it? Didn't I pallaber till my t'roat was sore? And didn't poor Jim and Sally pallaber till deir t'roats was sore?
De Spaniards enter dere, and cut de t'roats ob all de men 'cept what ride or run away, and de women as bad, and dey come on quick march to Popayan; do de same t'ing dere, no doubt." "That is indeed bad news," I said. "We will get our horses and return home to-night; they are fortunately fresh. You must change horses, Paul, and go with us, after you have had some food."
An' if it wasn't fer Miss Allis it's a pity you couldn't a-sold him the Chestnut. He's a sawhorse he's as heavy in th' head as a bag of salt; he'll never do no good to nobody. Them's the kind as kapes a man poor, eatin' their heads off, an' wan horse, or maybe two, in the stable earnin' th' oats fer them. It's chaper to cut th' t'roats av such cattle."
Massa Mike," he whispered, "me tink me hear someting down below, may be bear or painter, or may be red-skin comin' to try and cut our t'roats. He no get in so easy 'dough. Jes' come an' say what you t'ink it is, Massa Mike, but not show yourself, or if red-skin savage him shoot his arrow." Following Dio's example, I stooped down and crept cautiously on to the point to which he conducted me.
"O massa!" said the poor black, with a look of almost superhuman penitence, "I beg your pard'n. I's quite forgit to remimber. I was just agwine to say that there is times when you mus' fight. But isn't Chili Christ'n, an' isn't P'roo Christ'n? I don' bleeve in Christ'ns what cut each oder's t'roats to prove dey's right. Howsever, das noting.
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