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"That's a theatre," Foster informed him, and after musing for a time he said: "Place whar they swollow knives, I reckon. Seed a feller do that at a school-house one night, an' I thought he'd killed hisse'f, but he spit it out jest like a stick of molasses candy. Wall, suh, I never seed as many lanterns hung up befo'. An' I want to tell you they've got good roads through this place.
W'en he come ober to our place it wuz des ez bad, 'tel bimeby Wiley seed dat Dilsey had got ter thinkin' a heap 'bout Dave, en den he sorter hilt off aw'ile, en purten' lack he gin Dilsey up. But he wuz one er dese yer 'ceitful niggers, en w'ile he wuz laffin' en jokin' wid de yuther han's 'bout Dave en Dilsey, he wuz settin' a trap fer ter ketch Dave en git Dilsey back fer hisse'f.
Here Jim Pink broke into genuine laughter, which was quite a different thing from his stage grimaces. Peter stared at the fool astonished. "Has he gone to jail?" "Not prezactly." "Well confound it! exactly what did happen, Jim Pink?" "He gone to Mr. Cicero Throgmartins'." "What did he go there for?" "Couldn't he'p hisse'f." "Look here, you tell me what's happened." "Mr. Bobbs ca'ied Tump thaiuh.
Now, it seems that when he gits to a place he goes to the graveyard and looks for stones to tally with his dead list, and when he don't find any he makes a note of it; so, you see, havin' Dick's name down, an' not knowin' the full particulars, he hunted us up, thinkin' we was unsupplied in his line. So, you see, that's why he made sech a leech of hisse'f on our porch."
Bofe doin' fust rate, boys; an' den he stepped back in de house, sort o' laughin' to hisse'f, an' in a minute he come out ag'in wid de baby in he arms, all wrapped up in flannens an' things, an' sez, 'Heah he is, boys. All de folks den, dey went up on de poach to look at 'im, drappin' dey hats on de steps, an' scrapin' dey feets ez dey went up. You are to be his boy from dis time.
But dat summer he got des ez spry en libely ez any young nigger on de plantation; fac', he got so biggity dat Mars Jackson, de oberseah, ha' ter th'eaten ter whip 'im, ef he did n' stop cuttin' up his didos en behave hisse'f. But de mos' cur'ouses' thing happen' in de fall, when de sap begin ter go down in de grapevimes.
Thar ain't nuthin' much wus than listenin' to other folks when they talk business. Now the fust woman on the earth listened when her husband he was a talkin' to an angel that was out in the garden a sunnin' hisse'f, and they called her a Eve drapper." "Wall, you wan't a talkin' to no angel, I'll tell you that." "Talkin' to one now, ain't I?" "Jasper, I didn't come in here to be made fun of.
He let a yell like forty yaller cats a courtin', an' den he broke. You ain't seed no nigger hump hisse'f like dat nigger. He tore down de well shelter and fo' pannils er fence, an' de groun' look like wunner deze yer harrycanes had lit dar and fanned up de yeath." "Why, I thought you killed him?" "He bleedzed ter be dead, boss. Ain't I put de gun right on 'im?
"Den he tuck'n squoze my han' en jump on de filly I bin savin' fer 'im, en rid off. One time he tu'n roun' en look like he wanter say sump'n', but he des waf' his han' so en gallop on. I know'd den dat trouble wuz brewin'. Nigger dat knows he's gwineter git thumped kin sorter fix hisse'f, en I tuck'n fix up like de war wuz gwineter come right in at de front gate.
Purty soon Marse George say he gwinter speak his min' and he call de colonel a brute an' den de colonel riz up an' say Marse George was a beggar and a puttin' on airs when he didn't hab 'nough money to buy hisse'f a 'tater; an' den Marse George r'ared and pitched Oh I tell ye he ken be mighty sof' and persimmony when he's tame and he's mos' allers dat way but when his dander's up, and it suttinly riz to-day, he kin make de fur fly.
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