“Den I run ter whar Marse Tumlin an’ John Henry Gossett had been scufflin’; but by de time I got dar John Henry squalled out dat he had ’nuff; an’ he wa’n’t tellin’ no lie, suh, fer Marse Tumlin had ketched his cane up short, an’ he used it on dat man’s face des like you see folks do wid ice-picks. He like to ’a’ ruint ’im. But when he holla dat he got ’nuff, Marse Tumlin let ’im up. He let ’im up, he did, an’ sorter step back. By dat time Rube wuz a-climbin’ out’n de briers, an’ Sam wuz makin’ motions like he comin’-to. Marse Tumlin say, ‘Lemme tell you cowardly rascals one thing. De nex’ time a’er one un you bat his eye at me, I’m gwine ter put a hole right spang th’oo you. Ef you don’t b’lieve it, you kin start ter battin’ um right now.’ Wid dat, he draw’d out his ervolver an’ kinder played wid it. Rube say, ‘We’ll drap it, Major; we des had a little too much licker. But I’ll not drap it wid dat nigger dar. I’ll pay her fer dis day’s work, an’ I’ll pay ’er well.’ “Well, suh, de way he say it set me on fire. I stept out in de middle er de road, an’ ’low, ‘_Blast yo’ rotten heart, ef you’ll des walk out here I’ll whip you in a fa’r fight. Fight me wid yo’ naked han’s an’ I’ll eat you up, ef I hatter pizen myse’f ter do it._’” Once more Aunt Minervy Ann brought the whole scene mysteriously before me. Her eyes gleamed ferociously, her body swayed, and her outstretched arm trembled with the emotion she had resummoned from the past. We were on the spot. The red hill-side, the hedges of Cherokee roses, Major Perdue grim and erect, Sam Gossett struggling to his feet, John Henry wiping his beaten face, Rube astounded at the unwonted violence of a negro woman, the buggy swerved to one side by the horse searching for grass—all these things came into view and slowly faded away. Aunt Minervy Ann, suddenly recollecting herself, laughed sheepishly. “I ain’t tellin’ you no lie, suh, dat ar Rube Gossett stood dar like de little boy dat de calf run over. He mought er had sump’n ugly ter say, but Marse Tumlin put in. He ’low, ‘Don’t you fool yo’se’f ’bout dis nigger ’oman. When you hit her you hits me. Befo’ you put yo’ han’ on ’er you come an’ spit in my face. You’ll fin’ dat lots de cheapes’ way er gittin’ de dose what I got fer dem what hurts Minervy Ann.’ “Well, suh, dis make me feel so funny dat a little mo’ an’ I’d a got ter whimperin’, but I happen ter look ’roun’, an’ dar wuz our ol’ cow lookin’ at me over a low place in de briers. She done got in de fiel’ by a gap back up de road, an’ dar she wuz a-lookin’ at us like she sorry. Wid me, suh, de diffunce ’twixt laughin’ an’ cryin’ ain’t thicker dan a fly’s wing, an’ when I see dat ol’ cow lookin’ like she ready ter cry, I wuz bleeze to laugh. Marse Tumlin look at me right hard, but I say, ‘Marse Tumlin, ol’ June lis’nin’ at us,’ an’ den _he_ laughed.