North Carolina -- Social life and customs; Plantation life
"Here's wha' dey tuck de watah," the old man remarked to the dog, as
together they followed the footprints to the water's edge. "Dat 'ere
listed sow, she got mo' sense un folks! She know 'bout Mars Jones's
corn, an' dey ain't no fence gwine stop dat cretur when she take a
notion for to go.
"Well, well, well, de listed sow, an' de big white hogue, an' seben
head o' shotes done tore down de fence, an' took deyselves 'cross de
riber for to steal Mars Jones's corn; I 'clare 't is a disgrace. I
reckon Mars Jones gwine cuss a plenty when he fine it out. It certinly
is a pity for master's creturs to do sich a low-life trick as dat. But
bless de Lord," and a look of crafty triumph came into his face,
"dey's got dey bellies full, anyhow."
With this pleasing reflection, and the conviction that nothing more
could be done for the present, the old man seated himself upon a log,
opened his bucket, took out his jack-knife, and proceeded to eat his
dinner, while Drive sat by, in eager readiness to snatch the morsels
flung to him, ere they could reach the ground.
When the meal was finished, dog and man each took comfort in his own
way. The dog stretched himself in the sunshine. The old man sat with
bent head "a-studyin'," then nodded, then fell into a deep sleep,
soothed by the silence, which reigned unbroken save for the distant
cawing of a crow.
The long gray moss swayed dreamily upon the motionless boughs of the
giant trees. Where the sycamore lifted its gaunt, white arms, the
great bald eagle sat immovable, watching with fierce, intent gaze for
its prey in the waters below.
II
The shadows were growing long upon wood and river when the light dip
of a paddle broke upon the stillness, and old Jerry, rousing from his
nap, spied a canoe gliding down stream, guided by two youths who, with
their guns lying crosswise upon their knees, were making for the bank.
"Mars Harry an' Mars Phil," he murmured, eying them with lazy
curiosity, as they brought their little craft to land, and after
making it fast, picked up their guns, crossed the levee, and struck
off into the swamp.
"Dey's after turkey, I 'speck; Mars Harry an' me, we's killed many a
varmint in dese here woods. Dey want no Mars Phil 'bout here in dem
days befo' ole Mars were tuck down."
Thus soliloquizing, the old man continued to gaze wistfully after the
retreating figures; for their appearance had seemed to bring a
disturbing element into his peaceful dreams, and a look of helpless
trouble overspread his face as, taking off his hat and slowly
scratching his head, he murmured:--
"Seem like it mos' a pity Mars Phil trouble hisself for to come here,
anyhow. Well, well, well! we folks all gwine be 'vided up 'twix Mars
Harry an' Mars Phil, 'cause ole Mars, he not long for dis world! Bless
de Lord, whinsoever it please Him for to teck ole Mars to hisself, I
trus' he gwine 'vide off Jerry to Mars Harry's shere, 'cause I
nachally ain't got no use for t'other one--he too outlondesh."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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