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Updated: August 26, 2024
Pomp seemed so disappointed that I added, "Perhaps we will fish later on." Vague as the promise was it sufficed to raise Pomp's spirits, and he tugged well at his oar, while I watched the splashing of fish in the river, heard the low, floundering noise made by the alligators, and listened to the fresh, clear song of the birds which were welcoming the coming of another day.
A little farther, and Pomp's lips would be close to my ear imploring me to shoot as he indicated a bit of sandy or muddy shore where, just clear of the water and looking like a piece of tree-stump, a great alligator would lie basking in the hot sunshine.
"Mass' George break poor ole Pomp heart." "I'll break poor ole Pomp's head if he bothers me any more," I cried, sulkily, as I once more leaned over the fence and began kicking off some of the dry mud which still adhered, though the leafage above it was clear and green. I heard Pomp draw in his breath hard, and he gave his bare foot a stamp on the ground. "You want poor ole Pomp go drown self?"
He might be cured by marriage to a sound-headed woman, but he 'll soon be wanting to walk about in silk legs if he stops a bachelor. They tell me his old mother here had a dress value twenty pound; and pomp's inherited. Save as he may, there's his leak."
This brought Pomp's face round directly, and his reproachful black eyes seemed to ask me what I could see to laugh at. "Come," I said, "you can't tell me I was playing tricks then. Why, Pomp, your oar's overboard," I cried as I realised that fact. "Yes, Mass' George. Dat great 'gator 'wallow um." "Nonsense!"
He preferred to throw himself on a rug before the open fire-place, and, curling up, not unlike a cat, began to pore over his primer. Frank often looked up from his own studies and looked down with an amused glance at little Pomp's coal-back face and glistening eyes riveted upon the book before him. There was no lack of brightness or intelligence in the earnest face of his young pupil.
"Why couldn't you learn as well as Pomp?" "Dat ar boy's a gen'us, missus. His fader was a mighty smart nigger, and Pomp's took arter him." Chloe's conviction of her own inferiority and Pomp's superior ability seemed so rooted that Mrs. Frost finally gave up her persuasions.
Oh, how thankful was Frank that he was not alone! He now knew the meaning of Pomp's warning; and the dreadful sound had so unnerved him, that it was with great difficulty he could keep on his way. But this lasted only for a moment. His fear changed to indignation, and a desire to execute vengeance on men who could be guilty of such barbarity.
This gave me a good opportunity to titillate both sides of his neck, and he sprang round again. "Bodder!" I heard him mutter; but I persevered, making the twig play well about him. "Bodder de fly!" he cried, viciously; but the twig tickled away, and Pomp's eyes were so tightly closed that he contented himself with twisting and rubbing himself.
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