"Lef' her settin' dar, I did, at de doo'," continued Burl, now modulating his voice into a sort of dolorous tune: "pore mudder all by herself at de doo'. Couldn't speak a word, couldn't walk a step, so mizzible--so onsituwated, fur dar she's a-settin' yit, I know, a-lookin' an' a-lookin', a-prayin' an' a-prayin', to see her pore ol' nigger comin' home a totein' her pore little boy on his back. How could you, Bushie, how could you leave yo' pore mudder so onsituwated? I wouldn't be 'stonished----" "O don't, Burl! Please don't; it hurts me so--it nearly kills me!" And with the loved pictures of home--the motherly face, with its white cap; the mother's bed, with his own little trundle-bed underneath; the table, with its white cloth folded and laid upon it; the hickory-bound cedar water-bucket, with its crooked handled gourd; the red corner-cupboard, with its store of Johnny-cakes and cold potatoes for quiet enjoyment between meals; old Cornwallis; the red rooster; the speckled hen; the yellow tomcat--with all these loved images passing with sudden vividness before his remembrance at the sound of the old home voice in that lonely place, the delinquent Bushie, now thoroughly penitent, lifted up his voice and wept aloud. "The little sinner had come to his milk." Yes, though a runaway, he had in him the good, sound stuff for making the good, sound man. Burl remained silent for some moments, that wholesome repentance might have its way and start the penitent toward the better life; then, making a big pretense of yielding the point, and wishing to hide, under a show of obedience to his baby superior, what he deemed an unwarrior-like weakness of feeling, he wound up the matter thus: "Well, Bushie, dar's reason in all things. You's my little marster, I's yo' ol' nigger. Bein' yo' ol' nigger, I mus' do what my little marster tells me to do, an' let de young Injun up. But mind you now, I'm doin' it beca'se he was good to my little marster. But who'd a thought it was in de red rubbish to do de like?" And with this closing observation, spoken in an under-tone, and meant only for the private ear of Burlman Rennuls, the Fighting Nigger stepped from over the prostrate foe, giving, as he did so, a wide, upward wave of the hand, with a huge, upward nod of the head, which said as plainly as ever had chivalry said it: "Vanquished warrior, rise and live!"