The balance being thus struck, the Captain drew his cow-hide and remarked: “Now, Toney, you black scamp, what say you, you lazy villain, why I shouldn’t give you fifteen lashes across your back, as hard as I can draw?” “Stop, old Mass,” said Toney; “dar’s de work in de garden, Sir—dat ought to tek off some.” “You black dog,” said the Captain, “havn’t I given you the proper credit of ten stripes for that? Come, come!” “Please, old Massa,” said Toney, rolling his eyes about in agony of fright, “dar’s—you forgot—dar’s de scourin’ ob de floor—old missus say e nebber been scour as good before.” “Soho, you saucy rascal,” quoth Captain Stick; “you’re bringing in more off-sets, are you? Well, now, there!”—here the Captain made an entry upon his book—“you have a credit of five stripes and the balance must be paid.” “Gor a mity, Massa, don’t hit yet—dar’s sumpen else—oh, Lord! please don’t—yes, Sir—got um now—ketchin’ de white boy and fetchin’ um to ole missus, what trow rock at de young duck.” “That’s a fact,” said the Captain, “the outrageous young vagabond!—that’s a fact, and I’ll give you credit of _ten_ stripes for it—I wish you had brought him to _me_—now we’ll settle the balance.” “Bress de Lord, ole Massa,” said Toney, “_dat’s all!_” Toney grinned extravagantly. The Captain adjusted his tortoise-shell spectacles with great exactness, held the book close to his eyes, and ascertained that the fact was as stated by Toney. He was not a little irritated. “You swear off the account, you infernal rascal!—you swear off the account, do you?” “All de credit is fair, old Massa,” answered Toney. “Yes, but—” said the disappointed Captain, “but—but—” still the Captain was sorely puzzled how to give Toney a _few licks any how_, “but—” an idea popped into his head, “_where’s my costs_, you incorrigible, abominable scoundrel? You want to swindle me, do you, out of my costs, you black, deceitful rascal! And,” added Captain Stick, chuckling as well at his own ingenuity, as the perfect justice of the sentence, “I enter judgment against you for costs—ten stripes!” and forthwith administered the stripes and satisfied the judgment. “Ki nigger!” said Toney; “ki nigger! what dis judgmen’ for coss, ole Massa talk ’bout. Done git off ’bout not blackin’ de boot—git off ’bout stayin’ long time at de mill—and ebry ting else; but dis judgmen’ for coss gim me de debbil! Bress God, nigger must keep out ob de ole stable, or I’ll tell you what, dat _judgmen’ for coss_ make e back feel mighty warm, for true!” XXI. THE WAY BILLY HARRIS DROVE THE DRUM-FISH TO MARKET.