"
"He ain't--he's gone. I was a hidin' in de bushes an' I seed Peters wid
his knife, an' I seed er man way up an' den er man way down--wid blood
spurtin' up. An' da tuck him home in er wagin; an' de folks dat wan't
right well 'quainted wid him befo' ain't gwine know him now, fur he
ain't got no mo' count'nence den er stewed punkin. I neber seed sich er
lick in my life."
"Oh, I'm glad," she cried, clapping her hands.
"Yas'm, an' I wallered dar like er hot hog in wet leaves, tickled mighty
nigh ter death; an' den I run off caze da mout want me ter go ez er
witness--an' mo'n dat, da might want ter sen' me ter de pennytenchy caze
I grind de co'n."
The last word alarmed her. "Do you think they will send him there? Do
you?"
"Oh, no'm, I doan think dat. He'll git out all right caze he's er white
man while I's er nigger, an' nuthin' tickel de white folks mo' den ter
send er nigger ter de pen."
"Well, I want you to go over an' tell Old Miz Barker to come an' stay
with me; an' you better put Laz or Mose on a hoss an' let him go as near
as he kin an' lissun for news.
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