"'Pend on me for dat, and if he don't cry for marcy, it'll not be my
fault."
As a parting caution Wiles remarked: "All you fellers keep mum on this
subject, for we don't want to miss de fun ner be cotched in it."
Now it happened that Mose Williams, Judge LeMonde's most faithful negro
servant, was attending to an affair of his own that Sunday evening not
strictly demanded by his obligations to his master. In other words, he
was courting a sprightly and good-looking quadroon girl, by name
Euphemia Jackson ("Femy" for short). This buxom lass was a house
servant on a plantation situated about five miles from Judge LeMonde's.
What were five miles to a lusty young negro fellow who had a good pair
of legs, a bracing atmosphere and bright moonlight in which to exercise
them, and a sweetheart at the journey's end?
Mose, arrayed in his best clothes, had gone early and stayed late. He
left the plantation happy with himself and all the world. For had he
not that very night popped the all-important question and had not Femy
given an answer which warmed the very depths of his darkey heart and
made the face of nature shine with a double light? To shorten the
distance home, as the hour was late and the bright moon threw some
light even among the thick trees, he determined to take a footpath
among the hills. This course led him close to the cabin of Simon Wiles,
Sam Wiles' father. He was walking in a zigzag path, now watching the
moonlight as it lilted down through the leafy canopy, making a dim but
peaceful light around him; now listening to the sounds which exist in
Kentucky forests in winter, the flight of nocturnal birds and moving of
animals; seeing the raccoon crossing his track like a shadow in search
of food; hearing the mournful hooting of owls in various directions.
Suddenly he was startled by seeing a light shining through the chinks
of a building. At once Mose determined to discover its meaning. He had
no fine-spun theories as to the wrong of eavesdropping. Besides, there
might be robbers planning to steal neighbor Wiles' horse or produce. So
he crept up to the barn, making so little noise that neither the
watchful dogs nor the plotting men heard him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account