"Fetch some wattah!" he called, "quick dar, you ongrateful white trash!
you gwine let young Marse Eddie die, when he done gone saved yo' baby from
burnin' up?"
"Take the gourd and run to the spring Celestia Ann; quick, quick as you
kin go," said the mother hugging up her rescued child, and wiping a tear
from her eye with the corner of a very dirty apron.
"There ain't none," answered the child, "we uns ain't got nothin' left;
it's all burnt up."
But a keen, fresh air was already reviving our hero.
"Take me home, Jim," he said faintly. "Stop that wagon," as one was heard
rumbling down the road, still at some distance.
"Hollo dar! jes stop an' take a passenger aboard!" shouted Jim, springing
to his feet and rushing into the road, waving his cap above his head.
"Hollo!" shouted back the other, "dat you Jim Yates? Burnin' down Smith's
house. Dat's a plenepotentiary crime, dat is, sah!"
"Oh go 'long, you fool, Pete White!" retorted Jim, as the other drew rein
close at his side, "you bet you don't catch dis niggah a burnin' no
houses. Spect ole Smith set de fire goin' hisself wid dat ole pipe o'
his'n!"
"An' it's clar burnt down to de ground," observed Pete, gazing with eager
interest at the smouldering ruins.
Pages:
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316