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Updated: May 17, 2025
It was the miller's voice again, an hour later. "You better go home now. Ride the hoss, boy," he and, kindly. Isom rose, and old Gabe helped him mount, and stood at the door. The horse started, but the boy pulled him to a standstill again. "I want to ax ye jes one thing more, Uncl' Gabe," he said, slowly.
"I've been abusin' him down thar in the woods. I come might' nigh killin' him onct." The old man stroked on, scarcely heeding the boy's words, so much nonsense would he talk when ill. "I've been lyin' to ye, Uncl' Gabe, 'n' a-deceivin' of ye right along.
You say a life fer a life in this worl'; the rider says hit's in the next, 'n' I'm mis'ble, Uncl' Gabe. Ef Rome I wish Rome was hyeh," he cried, helplessly. "I don't know whut to do." The miller rose and limped within the mill, and ran one hand through the shifting corn.
"Uncl' Peter won' let us take the boat," Estralla objected as Sylvia told her how easy the plan would be; "an' how be you gwine to get all blacked up without folks knowin' it?" But Sylvia had an answer for every objection. "I'll come to your cabin and dress up there, and I will ask your mammy to give me some food for a poor man. Some cookies and a cake," she said.
Now I want ye to beg fer mercy thet ye never showed thet ye wouldn't 'a' showed Steve... Purty good," he said, encouragingly. "Mebbe ye kin pray a leetle, seem' ez ye air a chu'ch member. Pray fer yer enemies, Eli; Uncl' Gabe says ye must love yer enemies. I know how ye loves me, 'n' I want yer to pray fer me. The Lawd mus' sot a powerful store by a good citizen like you.
Old Gabe sat smoking outside the door, and Isom stretched himself out on the platform close to the water, shading his eyes from the rich sunlight with one ragged sleeve. "Uncl' Gabe," he said, suddenly, "s'posin' Steve Brayton was to step out'n the bushes thar some mawnin' 'n' pull down his Winchester on ye, would ye say, 'Lawd, fergive him, fer he don't know whut he do'?"
"Uncl' Gabe," he said with sudden passion, "whut ye reckon Rome's a-doin'?" The miller looked a little petulant. "Don't ye git tired axin' me thet question, Isom? Rome's a-scratchin' right peert fer a livin', I reckon, fer hisself 'n' Marthy. Yes, 'n' mebbe fer a young 'un too by this time. Ef ye air honin' fer Rome, why don't ye rack out 'n' go to him?
I well 'members day Aunt Millie an' Uncl' Edmund wuz sold dir son Harrison wuz bought by Marse Hunt. 'Twuz shure sad an' folks cried when Aunt Millie and Uncl' Edmund wuz tuk away. Harrison neber see his mammy an' pappy agin. Slaves wuz hired out by de yeah fo' nine hundred dollahs." "Marse Hunt had schools fo' de slaves chilluns. I went to school on Lincoln Hill, too."
"Hit jes made me sick, Uncl' Gabe, hearin' him tell how they stretched Him out on a cross o' wood, when He'd come down fer nothin' but to save 'em, 'n' stuck a spear big as a co'n-knife into His side, 'n' give Him vinegar, 'n' let Him hang thar 'n' die, with His own mammy a-stand-in' down on the groun' a-cryin' 'n' watchin' Him. Some folks thar never heerd sech afore.
"Well, ye air a skeery critter!" he said, contemptuously. "I hain't goin' to hurt him, Uncl' Gabe, but he must be a plumb idgit, a-talkin' 'bout folks to thar face, 'n' him so puny an' spindlin'! You git!" Crump picked himself up trembling "Don't ye ever let me see ye on this side o' the river agin, now " and shuffled out, giving Marcum one look of fear and unearthly hate.
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