"'Yess'm, dat's right,' he says. 'But I'se countin' de money one day
an' a span ob mules broke loose an' stahts lickety-brindle fo' de bahn,
an' aimin' to ketch de mules, I pokes de money in de pocket wid de
hole. I ain' neber see dat no-'coun' money sence.'
"Miss Goodloe looks at the ole nigger fur a minute.
"'Uncle Jake . . . oh, Uncle Jake . . .' she says. '_These_ are the
things I just _can't_ stand!' Her eyes fill up, 'n' while she bites her
lip agin, it ain't no use. Two big tears roll down her cheeks. 'I'll
see you in a moment,' she says to me, 'n' goes inside.
"'Bad times! Bad times, pow'ful bad times!' says Uncle Jake, 'n'
hobbles away a-mutterin' to hisself.
"It's begun to get under my skin right. I'm feelin' queer, 'n' I gets
to thinkin' I'd better beat it. 'Don't be a damn fool!' I says to
myself. 'You ain't had nothin' to do with the cussed business 'n' you
can't help it none. If you don't buy this colt somebody else will.'
So I sets on the edge of the porch 'n' waits. It ain't so long till
Miss Goodloe comes out again. I gets up 'n' takes off my hat.
"'What horse do you wish to buy?' she says.
"'A big chestnut colt by Calabash, dam Mary Goodloe,' I says. 'They
tell me you own him.'
"'Oh, I _can't_ sell _him_!' she says, backin' towards the door. 'No
one has ever ridden him but me.'
"'Is he fast?' I asks her.
"'Of course,' she says.
"'Is he mannered?' I asks.
"'Perfectly,' she says.
"'He ain't never seen a barrier, I suppose?' I says.
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