The Lock and Key Library: The most interesting stories of all nations: American
General
The Lock and Key Library: The most interesting stories of all nations: American
Detective and mystery stories; Short stories, American
“Keep up the largest branch—the one on this side,” said Legrand.
The negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little
trouble; ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his squat
figure could be obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped
it. Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo.
“How much fudder is got to go?”
“How high up are you?” asked Legrand.
“Ebber so fur,” replied the negro; “can see de sky fru de top oh de
tree.”
“Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the trunk
and count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs have
you passed?”
“One, two, tree, four, fibe—I done pass fibe big limb, massa, ’pon
dis side.”
“Then go one limb higher.”
In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the
seventh limb was attained.
“Now, Jup,” cried Legrand, evidently much excited, “I want you to
work your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see
anything strange let me know.”
By this time what little doubt I might have entertained of my poor
friend’s insanity was put finally at rest. I had no alternative
but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously
anxious about getting him home. While I was pondering upon what
was best to be done, Jupiter’s voice was again heard.
“Mos feered for to ventur pon dis limb berry far—’tis dead limb
putty much all de way.”
“Did you say it was a DEAD limb, Jupiter?” cried Legrand in a
quavering voice.
“Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail—done up for sartin—done
departed dis here life.”
“What in the name of heaven shall I do?” asked Legrand, seemingly
in the greatest distress.
“Do!” said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, “why come
home and go to bed. Come now!—that’s a fine fellow. It’s getting
late, and, besides, you remember your promise.”
“Jupiter,” cried he, without heeding me in the least, “do you hear
me?”
“Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.”
“Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think it
VERY rotten.”
“Him rotten, massa, sure nuff,” replied the negro in a few moments,
“but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought venture out leetle
way pon de limb by myself, dat’s true.”
“By yourself!—what do you mean?”
“Why, I mean de bug. ’Tis BERRY hebby bug. Spose I drop him down
fuss, an den de limb won’t break wid just de weight of one nigger.”
“You infernal scoundrel!” cried Legrand, apparently much relieved,
“what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as
you drop that beetle I’ll break your neck. Look here, Jupiter, do
you hear me?”
“Yes, massa, needn’t hollo at poor nigger dat style.”
“Well! now listen!—if you will venture out on the limb as far as
you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I’ll make you a present
of a silver dollar as soon as you get down.”
“I’m gwine, Massa Will—deed I is,” replied the negro very
promptly—“mos out to the eend now.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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