“Now er black cat won’t holler when yo’ hangs him, if hit er rale black cat, ’case hit’s mostly de debil dat is er-w’arin’ uv er black cat’s skin when he wanter ’do erbout,’ ’case he know no hones’-minded pusson is gwine ter dribe erway er cat. So de debil he set by de warm hearth, in de skin er de black cat, an’ purr an’ purr, an’ hear all de secrets er de fambly, an’ things dat passes twixt man an’ man an’ man an’ wife, ’dout anybody tekin’ notice; an’ dat how things go singin’ roun’ an’ dar hain’t nobody tole ’em. “But dar’s one thing dat yo’ kin put in yo’ pipe an’ smoke; we’s all got our match somers, dar’s sumpen gwine ter ketch up wid de fastes’, an’ dat why de black cat ’ain’ show no fight ’gin er rope. “Well, ’Lish he tightens de noose an’ fling de eend er de rope ober de swingin’ fork, an’ tie hit dar, an’ sot an’ wait. De cat he grin an’ grin at ’Lish; he kin see de teef by de light er de eyes dat des shoot sparks, an’ hit ’pear lack dem eyes des charm ’Lish lack er snake, fur his’n plum sot on de cat’s, an’ he cain’t tek ’em off. “Den sumpen happin dat mek ’Lish’s blood fa’r rin cole an’ he hair ter stan’ right up an’ straighten out, es kinky es hit were; fur ’Lish he hear er voice ’hine de cat somers, an’ he know hit were de cat, dough de ole cat’s tongue was des er hangin’ out. Den hit ’pear lack dar were two cats, den free cats, den de air hit ’pear ter be plum full er cats, an’ dey all opin dey moufs an’ says de same thing all at de same time; ’Lish say hit were des lack thunder. He hain’t nebber, nebber tole what de cats gib out—he allus shiver an’ ’low he cain’t, so we all hain’t ebber know. But all dis time de hung cat was des er-grinnin’ at ’Lish. “Dat cat sho’ dead dis time—dar wa’n’t no ’sputin’ ’bout dat, dough dat wa’n’t no sign dat de debil done gone back ter his own. But arter de air git cl’ar fum de odder cats, ’Lish taken de hung cat down an’ hide de rope in de bayou, ’case he don’ want de niggers ter know he hang er black cat, an’ es he lock de door, he know de cream done safe now, an’ dar hain’t nuffin gwine ter pester hit no mo’. “Ole Miss mek mighty much er ’Lish, an’ Ole Marse brags on him, but it don’ ’pear ter do ’Lish much good; fur we cain’t hide nuffin fum de truf, an’ what er nigger do wrong in de dark, gwine ter be onkivered in de daylight, an’ hit hain’t gwin ter be er cloudy day, sho’s yo’ born. Er sin is one er de bes’ keepin’ things on dis here yeth; hit hain’t er gwine ter spile in de keepin’, an’ when dey onkiver hit, hit ’ll be des es safe an’ soun’ de day arter de Jedgment es you kin fin’ hit ter-day; an’ dat nigger he know he ’mittin’ er sin ’gin de ’ligion er he Mammy when he kill dat cat. “But de bad luck dat he hunted fur kim on him putty fas’ arter dat; fur de day lackin’ one arter he hang de cat, er muel he were ridin’ ter de fiel’—er ole, slow, jog-trottin’, sleepy muel—git de debil in her an’ frow him an’ break he leg.