{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_74880/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_74880","id":"gutenberg_74880","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/74880","summary":null,"tags":["Adventure stories","African Americans -- Juvenile fiction","Animals -- Juvenile fiction","Category: American Literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction","Enslaved persons -- Juvenile fiction","Fantasy fiction","Friendship -- Juvenile fiction","Plantation life -- Juvenile fiction","Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction","Storytelling -- Juvenile fiction","Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction","Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Books by Joel Chandler Harris.\n\n\nLITTLE MR. THIMBLEFINGER AND HIS QUEER COUNTRY. Illustrated by OLIVER\nHERFORD.\n\nMR. RABBIT AT HOME. A Sequel to Little Mr. Thimblefinger and His Queer\nCountry. Illustrated by OLIVER HERFORD.\n\nTHE STORY OF AARON (SO-NAMED) THE SON OF BEN ALI. Told by his Friends and\nAcquaintances. Illustrated by OLIVER HERFORD.\n\nAARON IN THE WILDWOODS. Illustrated by OLIVER HERFORD.\n\nPLANTATION PAGEANTS. Illustrated by E. BOYD SMITH.\n\nNIGHTS WITH UNCLE REMUS. Illustrated.\n\nUNCLE REMUS AND HIS FRIENDS. Illustrated.\n\nMINGO, AND OTHER SKETCHES IN BLACK AND WHITE.\n\nBALAAM AND HIS MASTER, AND OTHER SKETCHES.\n\nSISTER JANE, HER FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES. A Narrative of Certain Events\nand Episodes transcribed from the Papers of the late William Wornum.\n\nTALES OF THE HOME FOLKS IN PEACE AND WAR. Illustrated.\n\n                         HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\n                           BOSTON AND NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: DRUSILLA FELL ON THE GROUND IN A HEAP (Page 23)]\n\n\n\n\n                            The Story of Aaron\n                               (_SO NAMED_)\n                            The Son of Ben Ali\n\n                 _TOLD BY HIS FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES_\n\n                                    BY\n                           JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS\n                      AUTHOR OF \u201cUNCLE REMUS,\u201d ETC.\n\n                     _ILLUSTRATED BY OLIVER HERFORD_\n\n                              [Illustration]\n\n                           BOSTON AND NEW YORK\n                         HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY\n                      The Riverside Press Cambridge\n\n                             Copyright, 1895,\n                         BY JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.\n\n                             Copyright, 1896,\n                        BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.\n\n                          _All rights reserved._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                        PAGE\n\n       I. THE LANGUAGE OF THE ANIMALS                      1\n\n      II. A RIDE ON THE BLACK STALLION                    19\n\n     III. GRISTLE, THE GRAY PONY, BEGINS HIS STORY        34\n\n      IV. GRISTLE, THE GRAY PONY, CONCLUDES HIS STORY     52\n\n       V. RAMBLER, THE TRACK DOG, BEGINS HIS STORY        69\n\n      VI. A RUN THROUGH THE WOODS                         86\n\n     VII. RAMBLER, THE TRACK DOG, CONCLUDES HIS STORY    103\n\n    VIII. GRUNTER, THE WHITE PIG                         120\n\n      IX. THE WHITE PIG\u2019S STORY                          137\n\n       X. THE BLACK STALLION\u2019S STORY                     155\n\n      XI. FREE POLLY\u2019S STORY                             172\n\n     XII. THE ARMY MARCHES BY                            187\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                                                        PAGE\n\n    DRUSILLA FELL ON THE GROUND IN A HEAP      _Frontispiece._\n\n    BUSTER JOHN WENT FORWARD AND KNOCKED                   6\n\n    AARON SHOWING THE MIRROR                              10\n\n    A RIDE ON THE BLACK STALLION                          26\n\n    A RABBIT JUMPED UP AT THEIR FEET                      38\n\n    THEY CARRIED HIM SOME GREEN CORN                      42\n\n    THE SLAVE TRAIN                                       46\n\n    BEN ALI HAD FOUND TWO FRIENDS                         54\n\n    A RABBIT DASHED ACROSS THE ROAD                       76\n\n    OLD GRIZZLY BROUGHT HIM BACK                          82\n\n    I WAS CLOSE TO THE RABBIT                             86\n\n    MAMMY SAY DEY WUS COURTIN\u2019                            90\n\n    I LOOKED UP AND WHINED                               104\n\n    YOUNG GRIZZLY BOWED LOW                              114\n\n    THE WHITE PIG GREW STRONG AND DANGEROUS              122\n\n    GRUNTER ASKING THE RED SQUIRRELS FOR NUTS            134\n\n    THE WHITE PIG TELLS HIS STORY                        140\n\n    A WILD CAT WAS WATCHING ME                           144\n\n    LOOK ON THE HILL YONDER                              148\n\n    THE GRAY MARE LEAPED AWAY FROM ME                    164\n\n    THE WHITE-HAIRED MASTER CUT THE ROPE                 168\n\n    AARON TOTED HIM DOWN DE TREE                         182\n\n    DE SQUINCH OWL LIGHTED ON A\u2019ON\u2019S HAND                184\n\n    TWO SOLDIERS RODE ALONG                              188\n\n    HIS EYES LINGERED ON THE PORTRAIT                    192\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF AARON.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nTHE LANGUAGE OF THE ANIMALS.\n\n\nThe story of how Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla found their\nway into Mr. Thimblefinger\u2019s queer country has been set forth, and many\nof the tales they heard there have been told. All of this matter has\nbeen put into a book, where the curious may now find it. This being so,\nit is not necessary to go over it again. Imitation is bad enough, but\nrepetition is worse. It is enough to say, therefore, that these children\nwhose names have been mentioned lived on a large plantation in Middle\nGeorgia, in that part of the country where cotton grows, where the\nmocking-birds sing in the orchards, and where the roses bloom in the open\nair from April to November.\n\nThere is nothing tropical or even semi-tropical in Middle Georgia. The\ntrees and shrubs and all of the wild flowers are much the same as those\nthat grow in New England. The summers are not so hot nor the winters\nso long and cold in Middle Georgia as they are farther to the north;\nbut warm weather lasts longer, and that is the reason that cotton and\nsugar-cane and watermelons can be raised in Middle Georgia in the open\nair.\n\nThe plantation on which the children lived appeared to be just like all\nthe other plantations round about, but the youngsters had already found\nout that it was entirely different from the rest in some respects. So\nfar as they knew, and they had made careful inquiries, there was no Mr.\nThimblefinger on any one of the neighboring plantations, and there was\nno road leading from any other plantation to Mr. Thimblefinger\u2019s queer\ncountry.\n\nOn Sundays when there was a big meeting going on at Mt. Zion church,\nand the congregation carried dinner in hamper baskets, Buster John and\nSweetest Susan and Drusilla (their negro nurse and playmate) took pains\nto inquire among the children they met there if any of them had ever seen\nMr. Thimblefinger. The reply was that they had not only never seen him,\nbut had never even heard of him before. This made Buster John feel more\nimportant than ever, and Sweetest Susan said she was surprised and sorry\nthat the other children should have failed to see Mr. Thimblefinger, and\nthey so near his queer country, too. As for Drusilla, she declared that\nit made no difference, anyhow, \u201cKaze ef dey wuz ter see \u2019im wid der naked\neyes dey wouldn\u2019t b\u2019lieve dey seed \u2019im.\u201d But the neighbor-children said\nnothing, they simply stared at one another and concluded that Buster John\nand Sweetest Susan and Drusilla were trying to make fun of them.\n\nIf the neighbor-children had been wise, they would have asked some\nquestions about Mr. Thimblefinger, and then they would have found out\nthat the Abercrombie place, as it was called, was different from all the\nother plantations they had ever heard of, being the scene of some of Mr.\nThimblefinger\u2019s performances, and containing within its boundaries the\ngateway to Mr. Thimblefinger\u2019s queer country, which lies next door to the\nworld.\n\nThose who have taken the trouble to read the book in which the stories\ntold by Mr. Thimblefinger and his friends are partly set forth will\nremember that when Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla were on the\npoint of returning home, they were asked if they knew a man named Aaron.\nTo which Buster John replied that he ought to know Aaron, since he was\nforeman of the field-hands. Whereupon Buster John was told that Aaron was\nthe Son of Ben Ali, and knew the language of animals. \u201cIf you want to\nlearn this language,\u201d said Mr. Rabbit, \u201cgo to Aaron, Son of Ben Ali, take\nhim by his left hand, bend the thumb back, and with your right forefinger\nmake a cross mark on it. Should Aaron pay no attention to it, repeat the\nsign. The third time he will know it.\u201d\n\nBut the minds of the children were so busy thinking of what they had seen\nand heard that they forgot all about the matter. Once when Buster John\nchanced to remember what he had been told, Aaron happened to be ill in\nbed. Another time, when the children determined to find out something\nabout the language of the animals, they found that Aaron was away from\nhome. He had gone with the wagons to Augusta, one hundred miles away,\nto sell the year\u2019s crop of cotton. Thus, in one way and another, Buster\nJohn, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla were many long months older when they\nsought and found Aaron in his cabin than they were when they made their\nlast visit to Mr. Thimblefinger\u2019s queer country.\n\nNow Aaron was the most remarkable slave in all the country round, not\nbecause he was tall and finely formed, nor because he carried himself as\nproudly as a military officer, but because he had a well-shaped head, a\nsharp black eye, thin lips, and a nose prominent, but not flat. Another\nremarkable feature was his hair, which, instead of being coarse and\nkinky, was fine, thick, wavy, glossy, and as black as jet.\n\nThe negroes on the place seemed to be very much afraid of him. This would\nnot have been strange if Aaron had been an old man; negroes always stand\nin awe of those who are very old; but he was not above forty, and seemed\nto be even younger. There were many stories current about Aaron, which\nthe negroes told to each other in whispers when their cabin fires burned\nlow. One was that he was a conjurer, and in league with the \u201cold boy.\u201d\nThis was because Aaron refused to associate with his fellow servants on\nterms of equality, and would allow them to take no liberties with him.\n\nAnother story was that he was of Indian blood. But he had no Indian\ncharacteristic, except that of serenity. His color was dark brown. He was\nboth quick in his movements and fluent in his speech, but his talk was\ndifferent from that of the negroes. Still another story about Aaron was\nthat he was very dangerous. It was whispered that he had killed several\npeople, a number of women and children among them. This story grew out\nof the fact that he alone could manage Timoleon, the big black stallion.\nThis horse, wild in his ways and fierce of temper, was as gentle as a\ndog in Aaron\u2019s hands, and followed him about as the chicken follows the\nmother hen.\n\n[Illustration: BUSTER JOHN WENT FORWARD AND KNOCKED]\n\nIt was one Saturday, when Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla\nwent to Aaron\u2019s cabin. On the plantation there was a half-holiday every\nSaturday, if crop work was not pressing, and sometimes when the corn\nwas laid by the negroes had a whole holiday. This was the case now. The\nchildren saw Aaron go into his cabin and half close the door after\nhim. Buster John went forward and knocked. There was no invitation to\n\u201ccome in,\u201d as there would have been at any other cabin in the negro\nquarters. Instead, Aaron came to the door, pulled it open and looked out\nwith something like a frown on his face. But he smiled when he saw the\nchildren.\n\n\u201cOh, you?\u201d he said with a laugh. \u201cI didn\u2019t know who. Jump in!\u201d\n\nThere was a step lacking among those leading to the door, so he seized\nBuster John by the hand and swung him into the room. Then he lifted\nSweetest Susan a little more carefully, but ignored Drusilla altogether.\nThis was not regarded by Drusilla as a slight, for she was not anxious to\nbe touched by him. She was not even anxious to go into the cabin, but her\ncuriosity was more powerful than her vague fears, and so, after a while,\nshe followed the children in.\n\nAaron, still smiling, lifted Buster John high in the air. \u201cLe\u2019 me see;\nlike enough you\u2019d weigh ninety poun\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cEighty-seven,\u201d replied Buster John.\n\n\u201cHeavy! heavy!\u201d exclaimed Aaron. \u201cOne time I toted your uncle all night\nlong. He was sixteen-year old and weighed fifty poun\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was Uncle Crotchet, who is dead,\u201d said Buster John.\n\n\u201cYes. Folks named him Little Crotchet,\u201d Aaron remarked.\n\n\u201cThat was ever so long ago,\u201d suggested Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cFifteen year,\u201d said Aaron.\n\nMeanwhile Buster John pretended to be playing with Aaron\u2019s left hand.\nFinally he seized the thumb, bent it back as far as it would go, and made\na cross-mark on it. Aaron playfully jerked his hand away, but Buster\nJohn caught it again, bent the thumb back and again made the cross-mark.\nApparently Aaron paid no attention to this, for he failed to take his\nhand away. Once more, and for the third time, Buster John bent the thumb\nback and made the cross-mark. At once Aaron put him gently aside and went\nto the door and closed it. Then he turned to Buster John and said in a\nwhisper:\u2014\n\n\u201cHow come? Where you been? Who told you?\u201d\n\nBuster John was so much surprised that he hesitated a moment, and then\nbegan to reply in a tone of voice somewhat louder than usual.\n\n\u201cSh-sh! talk low!\u201d whispered Aaron. \u201cDid somebody tell you to do that?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Buster John.\n\n\u201cRound anywhere by the spring?\u201d Aaron was very cautious in putting his\nquestions. Apparently he wanted to make himself perfectly sure.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d cried Sweetest Susan. \u201cThe spring is the gate, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe, too?\u201d asked Aaron, nodding his head toward Drusilla.\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d said Buster John.\n\n\u201cI dunner how come I can\u2019t go whar de yuthers does,\u201d remarked Drusilla.\n\n\u201cAll right\u2014all right!\u201d exclaimed Aaron. Then he counted them.\n\u201cOne\u2014two\u2014three! And now you\u2019ve come to me. What for?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe want to learn how to talk with the animals,\u201d said Buster John.\n\nAaron, who had been frowning a little, seemed to be relieved. The frown\ndisappeared.\n\n\u201cOho,\u201d he cried, \u201cis that all? \u2019Tain\u2019t much, yet it\u2019s a heap. You\u2019ll\nhear lots of sassy talk. Sometimes, maybe, you\u2019ll have to stop up your\nears.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe won\u2019t mind that,\u201d remarked Buster John.\n\n\u201cMaybe not,\u201d said Aaron. Then he went to a large wooden chest that sat\nin the corner, unlocked it, and presently brought forth a bundle of red\ncloth. This he placed on the floor and sat beside it, motioning the\nchildren to sit on the floor in a circle around the bundle. He unrolled\nthe cloth until he came to an oval-shaped mirror. The frame was heavy and\nrichly carved, and shone as bright as new silver shines.\n\nAaron placed the beautiful mirror carefully on the floor, face up. Then\nhe threw the red cloth over his head and over the children\u2019s heads. If\nany one had been peeping through the chinks of the chimney he would have\nbeen very much puzzled by what he saw and heard. He would have seen the\nred cloth bobbing up and down as if those underneath were bowing their\nheads back and forth, and he would have heard muffled exclamations of\nwonder, the loudest of all being Drusilla\u2019s involuntary cry:\u2014\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t dat beat all!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: AARON SHOWING THE MIRROR]\n\nThe children never told what happened under the cloth, nor what they saw\nin the mirror. When Aaron rose to his feet, the cloth still over his\nhead, he made a few movements with his arms, and lo! there was the bundle\nin his hands with the mirror wrapped in its folds.\n\nSweetest Susan looked at Buster John. \u201cWasn\u2019t it easy?\u201d she cried. \u201cDid\nyou ever see anything as bright\u201d\u2014She would have said more, but Aaron\ntouched her gently on the arm and put his finger on his lips. At that\nmoment a gander in the spring lot began to scream.\n\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d asked Aaron, looking at Drusilla.\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018I\u2019m gwine atter water\u2014water\u2014who wanter go?\u2019\u201d\n\nAaron seemed satisfied with the answer. He replaced the bundle in the\nchest, turned the key and then leaned against the rude mantel shelf he\nhad nailed over his fireplace.\n\n\u201cYou think I\u2019m a nigger, don\u2019t you?\u201d He turned to Buster John.\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d said the youngster without hesitation. \u201cWhat else are you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll show you.\u201d From his pocket Aaron drew a little package\u2014something\nwrapped in soft leather and securely tied. It was a memorandum book.\nOpening this small book, Aaron held it toward Buster John, saying \u201cWhat\u2019s\nhere?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt looks like pothooks,\u201d replied the boy, frankly.\n\n\u201cAin\u2019t a word in it I can\u2019t read,\u201d said Aaron.\n\n\u201cRead some of it, please,\u201d pleaded Sweetest Susan.\n\nThereupon Aaron began to read from the book in a strange tongue, the tone\nof his voice taking on modulations the children had never heard before.\n\n\u201cI ain\u2019t never hear no jabber like dat,\u201d said Drusilla.\n\n\u201cWhat sort of talk is it?\u201d asked Buster John.\n\n\u201c\u2019Tain\u2019t no creetur talk,\u201d remarked Drusilla; \u201cI know dat mighty well.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s the talk of Ben Ali,\u201d said Aaron\u2014\u201cBen Ali, my daddy. Every word\nhere was put down by him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I\u2019ve heard grandpa talk about uncle Ben Ali,\u201d suggested Buster\nJohn.\n\nAaron nodded. \u201cMany a time. Your grandpa, my master, tried to buy my\ndaddy, but Ben Ali was worth too much. I went to see him with my master\ntwice a year till he died. He was no nigger.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat then?\u201d Buster John asked.\n\n\u201cArab\u2014man of the desert\u2014slave hunter\u2014all put down here,\u201d said Aaron,\ntapping the little book with his finger.\n\nThe children were anxious to hear more about Ben Ali, the Arab\u2014Ben Ali\nthe slave hunter, who had himself become a slave. There was not much to\ntell, but that little was full of interest as Aaron told it, sitting in\nhis door, the children on the steps below him. For the most part the book\nwas a diary of events that had happened to Ben Ali after he landed in\nthis country, being written in one of the desert dialects; but the first\nfew pages told how the Arab chief happened to be a slave.\n\nBen Ali was the leader of a band that made constant war on some of the\nAfrican tribes in the Senegambian region. With their captives, this\nband of Arabs frequently pushed on to the Guinea coast and there sold\nthem to the slave traders. These excursions continued until, on one\noccasion, the Arabs chanced to clash with a war-loving tribe, which was\nalso engaged in plundering and raiding its neighbors. The meeting was\nunexpected to the Arabs, but not to the Africans. The Arabs who were left\nalive were led captive to the coast and there sold with other prisoners\nto slave traders. Among them was Ben Ali, who was then not more than\nthirty years old. With the rest, he was brought to America, where he\nwas sold to a Virginian planter, fetching a very high price. Along with\nhim, in the same ship, was an Arab girl, and she was also bought by the\nplanter. Nothing was said in the diary in regard to the history of this\ngirl, except that she became Ben Ali\u2019s wife, and bore him a son and a\ndaughter. The son was Aaron, so named. The daughter died while yet a\nchild.\n\nThese things Aaron told the children, little by little and in a rambling\nway, begging Buster John and Sweetest Susan to say nothing about the\nmatter to any other person, and threatening Drusilla with uplifted finger\nthat if she opened her mouth about it he would put \u201cthe misery\u201d on her.\nDrusilla had seen negroes who were the victims of \u201cthe misery\u201d\u2014which is\nthe plantation name of the spell that conjurers put on people, and she\ndeclared over and over again that she wouldn\u2019t tell\u2014\u201ccrossing her heart\u201d\nto show that she meant what she said.\n\n\u201cCan we talk with the animals sure enough\u2014the horses, the cows, the\nsheep, the dogs, and the hogs?\u201d asked Buster John.\n\nAaron smiled as he answered: \u201cA little bit now, more pretty soon. The\nsheep\u2014I don\u2019t know. Sheep don\u2019t talk much around me. But the others are\ntalking all the time. You must watch all the motions they make, shutting\nthe eye, switching the tail, flopping the ear, stamping the foot\u2014all part\nof the talk.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen shall we try?\u201d asked Buster John.\n\n\u201cRight after dinner,\u201d replied Aaron; \u201cwe\u2019ll go see old Timoleon.\u201d\n\n\u201cTimoleon!\u201d cried Sweetest Susan, in dismay.\n\nAaron laughed and nodded his head. \u201cWe\u2019ll take him out the stable and see\nwhat he says. Timoleon good talker.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I\u2019m afraid to go!\u201d cried Sweetest Susan. \u201cMamma told me never to go\nnear Timoleon\u2019s stable.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you de plain trufe,\u201d said Drusilla vehemently, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t go\nup dar in dat fiel\u2019 whar dat hoss is\u2014I wouldn\u2019t go dar, not fer money.\nAin\u2019t I done see \u2019im jump on a nigger man an\u2019 tar de cloze off\u2019n \u2019im?\nUh-uh! you don\u2019t ketch me up dar!\u201d\n\n\u201cLittle Missy will go with me,\u201d remarked Aaron. Then he pointed to\nDrusilla. \u201cYou go or stay, but, look out! No talk!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll set on de fence an\u2019 see de hoss eat \u2019em up,\u201d suggested Drusilla, by\nway of a compromise.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019ll go if I do,\u201d said Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cYou mus\u2019n\u2019t be agwine, den,\u201d was Drusilla\u2019s comment.\n\nAaron looked at the girl so severely that she shrank back.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t mind Drusilla,\u201d said Sweetest Susan. \u201cShe doesn\u2019t mean anything\nshe says, except when she asks for something to eat.\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter dinner we\u2019ll go see Timoleon. If he seems like he\u2019s in good\nhumor,\u201d Aaron explained, \u201cwe\u2019ll bring him out. If he has been fretting,\nwe\u2019ll let him stay.\u201d\n\nThis was perfectly satisfactory to the children, especially to Buster\nJohn.\n\nThey went to play, but they only pretended to play. All they could do was\nto discuss what they had already seen and heard, and what they hoped to\nsee and hear. Time seemed to pass very slowly. They sat down and talked,\nand then walked about and talked, but still it was not dinner time. They\nwould have become very impatient indeed had not Buster John chanced to\nhear the big gray rooster call out to the yellow hen:\u2014\n\n\u201cRun, run, run! Here\u2019s a bug!\u201d\n\nThe yellow hen went running, but just as she reached the gray rooster he\nturned and walked away with great dignity, saying: \u201cCome on, let\u2019s go;\ncome on.\u201d\n\n\u201cI might have known it,\u201d complained the yellow hen; \u201cyou are like all the\nrest of the roosters. A respectable hen can\u2019t depend on anything you say.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome on, come on,\u201d said the big gray rooster, strutting along, \u201cI was\njust trying to get you away from that one-eyed dominicker. He\u2019s not fit\ncompany for you to associate with.\u201d\n\n\u201cHoity-toity!\u201d cried the yellow hen. \u201cAnd didn\u2019t I see you this morning\nscratching your toes off for the Friesland pullet?\u201d\n\nBuster John and Sweetest Susan laughed heartily at this, but Drusilla was\nvery serious.\n\n\u201cI dunno which de wuss,\u201d she cried, \u201cchickens er folks.\u201d\n\nAfter that, time no longer hung heavy on the children\u2019s hands. When the\ndinner bell rang, Buster John and Sweetest Susan were on hand promptly,\nwith their faces washed and their hair combed. They were so anxious to\nget through their dinner that they ate rapidly, and this attracted the\nattention of their mother, who wanted to know what they had been doing\nto make them so hungry. The only satisfaction she got was a request to\n\u201cPlease, ma\u2019m, make haste and have some dinner fixed for Drusilla.\u201d\n\nThis was very soon done, and in a little while the children were ready to\ngo with Aaron to see Timoleon.\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nA RIDE ON THE BLACK STALLION.\n\n\nAaron was not ready as soon as the children were, but they waited for him\nwith lamblike patience, considering their eagerness. Finally Aaron came\nout of his cabin and waved his hand as a signal that he was ready. The\nchildren ran to him, and together they went to the barn, where Timoleon\nhad his stable. This barn had once been the corn crib. It was built of\nstout logs, hewn square and mortised together, and was in the middle of\na five-acre field that had once been in cultivation, but was now overrun\nwith Bermuda grass. Here Timoleon reigned in solitude, except when Aaron\nwas with him. In this stable he remained securely imprisoned, save when\nAaron took him out for exercise.\n\nTimoleon was a horse renowned throughout the country\u2014renowned for his\nvictories on the race track and for his vicious temper. Even in his old\nage he was fleet and fierce, more dangerous, people said, than a tiger,\nand stronger than a lion. Fierce and strong, he was also beautiful. His\ncoat glistened in the sun like satin. His mane was flowing and heavy, his\ntail long and full. His neck and shoulders were thick and powerful; his\nhead tapering to the muzzle, his ears small and in constant motion, as\nwhen the night wind stirs the leaves of the willow; his nostrils red and\nflexible, and all his motions quick and graceful.\n\nAs Aaron and the children approached the stable, they heard Timoleon\npounding against the heavy logs with his feet.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m gwine back!\u201d cried Drusilla. \u201cHe tryin\u2019 ter git out now.\u201d\n\nBut she kept along with the rest.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter with him?\u201d asked Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s fretting,\u201d replied Aaron\u2014\u201cfretting or playing.\u201d\n\nHe went to the stable door and unlocked it, saying \u201cWhat now?\u201d\n\n\u201cSon of Ben Ali, what have I done?\u201d cried Timoleon. \u201cTo-day I go hungry\nbecause the corn is on the cob, to-morrow I\u2019ll be foundered because the\ncorn is shelled. Is it, then, nothing to you that I am old and my teeth\nare bad? What have I done? As for the fodder, it is full of dust. To put\nmy nose in it is to cough all night. In the desert, I have been told an\nold horse has new rice and cracked barley.\u201d\n\nBuster John looked at Sweetest Susan, and Sweetest Susan looked at Buster\nJohn. They were too much astonished to say anything.\n\n\u201cEven so, Grandson of Abdallah,\u201d said Aaron, \u201cwhat says the sun on the\nwall above your trough? Does it stand at the dinner hour? Why grumble,\nthen, about corn on the cob that I have saved for the grunter?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is the Grunting Pig to me, Son of Ben Ali? Or the sun on the\nwall? The dinner hour of those who are hungry comes best when it comes\nquickest. I have hurt my teeth on your nubbins. Take them away.\u201d\n\nSaying this, Timoleon snorted contemptuously. Then suddenly he gave a\nloud snort of surprise and anger. His quick and restless eye had caught\nsight of Sweetest Susan\u2019s dress through a crack in the door.\n\n\u201cSon of Ben Ali,\u201d he said, \u201cwhat is this? You are not alone.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Grandson of Abdallah, I have brought three of my friends,\u201d replied\nAaron.\n\n\u201cWho are they, Son of Ben Ali?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo grandchildren of the White-haired Master and their servant.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy have they come?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs I have touched your knee, so they have touched my thumb. Once, twice,\nthrice.\u201d\n\nTimoleon turned from the door, walked to the far end of his stable, and\nthen returned.\n\n\u201cThe grandchildren of the White-haired Master are wise,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cSo it seems,\u201d replied Aaron.\n\n\u201cThen let me touch them with my nose, so that hereafter I may know them.\u201d\n\nAaron opened the door and Timoleon strode out. He had on neither halter\nnor bridle, and the children shrank and cowered behind Aaron.\n\n\u201cSon of Ben Ali, what does this mean?\u201d asked Timoleon.\n\n\u201cIt means that they are children who have heard that the Grandson of\nAbdallah is a savage beast,\u201d replied Aaron.\n\nTimoleon with lowered head went to the children and pressed his muzzle\ngently against the shoulder of each\u2014against Buster John first, Sweetest\nSusan next, and Drusilla last. They were all frightened, but Drusilla\u2019s\nterror was such that her face, black as it was, took on an ashen hue. To\nmake matters worse, Timoleon snorted suddenly and loudly when he pressed\nhis nose on her shoulder. She gave a piercing scream, and fell on the\nground in a heap. Timoleon sprang back as though an attack had been\nmade on him. It was all so comical that Aaron laughed, and Buster John\nand Sweetest Susan relieved the strain on their feelings by joining him\nboisterously\u2014almost hysterically. Drusilla, hearing this, rose to her\nfeet with anger in her eyes.\n\n\u201cI dunner what you-all white chillun laughin\u2019 at. Ef you speck I\u2019m\ngwineter stan\u2019 flat-footed an\u2019 let dat ar hoss bite de top er my head\noff, you done gone an\u2019 fooled yo\u2019se\u2019f. I know\u2019d what he wuz gwine ter do,\ntime I seed de white er his eye. His breff hot nuff ter burn yo\u2019 han\u2019.\nWhat he want ter come doin\u2019 dat a way fer? I don\u2019t want no hoss ter be\nhuggin\u2019 me wid his upper lip nohow. I\u2019ll tell anybody dat.\u201d\n\nWhile Drusilla was quarreling, Timoleon was grazing near by, and Aaron\nand the children were still laughing.\n\n\u201cEf you-all think it so funny, go dar whar dat hoss is, an\u2019 let \u2019im\nnibble at you an\u2019 blow his nose on you a time er two.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does she say, Son of Ben Ali?\u201d Timoleon asked, raising his head\nfrom the rank Bermuda grass.\n\n\u201cShe says she thought you were about to bite off her head.\u201d\n\nTimoleon gave a snort of contempt, and addressed himself again to the\ndainty feast before him.\n\n\u201cNot too much of that, Grandson of Abdallah,\u201d said Aaron. \u201cYou are too\nfat now. You need exercise. How long since you have had a gallop?\u201d\n\n\u201cA month of Sundays, Son of Ben Ali.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-day you shall have one. On your head I will place a halter, on your\nbroad back I will strap your blanket. On the blanket I will place my\nfriends and yours, the grandchildren of the White-haired Master. But\nlisten! a stumble, and I\u2019m done with you; any trickery, and the Son of\nBen Ali will come near you no more.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo may it be, Son of Ben Ali.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe you, Grandson of Abdallah. You are to go by yonder gate\nthrough the lane to the great road. From there it is a mile and a half\nto the gate that opens on the avenue, leading to the house of the\nWhite-haired Master. At that gate I shall await you. Then up the avenue\nto the house you are to go, and three times around the boxwood circle\nwhere the avenue ends.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo it shall be, Son of Ben Ali. Have you not carried a noggin of water\non my back and set me at a gallop without spilling a drop? So it shall be\nnow, Son of Ben Ali.\u201d\n\nAaron went into the stable and came forth with a halter. This he threw on\nTimoleon\u2019s head, passing the loose end over the horse\u2019s neck and tying it\nin the ring, thus forming reins for the rider to handle. Then he folded a\nheavy blanket four times, placed it on the horse\u2019s back, and strapped it\ndown with a surcingle.\n\n\u201cNot too tight\u2014not too tight, Son of Ben Ali,\u201d said Timoleon, backing his\nears a little.\n\n\u201cNow, then, for a ride,\u201d said Aaron, turning to the children.\n\n\u201cOh, I\u2019m afraid!\u201d cried Sweetest Susan. \u201cMamma would be angry.\u201d\n\n\u201cTry him here, in the lot,\u201d suggested Aaron to Buster John.\n\nNow Buster John was a pretty good rider for a youngster, and was somewhat\nproud of the fact. He had even helped to break a young mule to the\nsaddle. So, after a little persuasion, he allowed Aaron to lift him to\nTimoleon\u2019s back.\n\n\u201cEasy, now,\u201d said Aaron.\n\nThe black stallion stepped proudly off. From a swinging walk he broke\ninto an easy canter, which soon became a swinging gallop. Before he had\ngone around the field, Buster John had lost all fear, and from his gently\nundulating seat waved his hand gayly to Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cOh, I wish I could go, too!\u201d she exclaimed, clapping her hands.\n\n\u201cWhy not, little Missy?\u201d said Aaron. \u201cI have seen you riding the Gray\nPony without a saddle.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he is as gentle as a dog,\u201d explained Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cWhy, so is Timoleon,\u201d replied Aaron. \u201cTry him. I will run beside him to\ncatch you, if you fall. I\u2019ll not run far before you will say, \u2018Go back!\u2019\u201d\n\n[Illustration: A RIDE ON THE BLACK STALLION]\n\nBy this time Timoleon came sweeping up to where they stood, and stopped.\nBuster John\u2019s face fairly glowed with the delight he felt.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Sweetest Susan, unable to resist the temptation. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll\ngo, but if I fall\u201d\u2014\n\nBefore she could finish what she had to say, the strong arms of Aaron had\nlifted her to a seat behind Buster John.\n\n\u201cHow can you fall?\u201d asked that bold youngster. \u201cHold fast to me. Put your\narms around me, and when you fall, let me know.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t talk that way just now,\u201d said Sweetest Susan. To this Buster\nJohn made no reply. Aaron stood beside the black stallion and stroked his\nneck.\n\n\u201cGrandson of Abdallah, show me what you are this day. Once around the\nfield, and then to the lane gate.\u201d\n\nThe horse took three long strides forward, and then broke into a canter\nas before. Aaron ran beside Timoleon a little way, one hand on Sweetest\nSusan\u2019s elbow to give her confidence, but he soon saw that she had lost\nall fear, and so, still running, he went to the gate that opened in the\nlane and threw it back, and stood there. The black stallion, going in a\nsteady gallop, swept around the field, and then came toward the gate. The\nchildren were laughing.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t forget, Grandson of Abdallah! You know my hand!\u201d This was Aaron\u2019s\nlast warning, as Timoleon went through the gate. The Son of Ben Ali\nwatched horse and riders for a few moments. Then he closed the gate and\nran swiftly through the lot, going toward the head of the avenue that led\nto the big house. The lane, half a mile in length, led obliquely away\nfrom the house and from the avenue until it joined the public road. From\nthat point, turning squarely to the left, the distance to the avenue gate\nwas about a mile. From the stable to the avenue gate, through the spring\nlot\u2014the way Aaron went\u2014was not quite half a mile.\n\n\u201cIf I go too fast, grandson of the White-haired Master,\u201d said Timoleon,\nas they turned into the public road, \u201ctouch me on the shoulder. And don\u2019t\nbe frightened when I lift my head and tell the fools I am coming.\u201d\n\nAs they came in sight of the negro quarters, Timoleon raised his head\nhigh in the air and neighed shrilly three times in quick succession. It\nsounded like a challenge to man and beast. That plantation had heard it\nmany times before, and it had usually been the forerunner of some display\nof savagery on the part of the black stallion\u2014sometimes a negro run down\nand trampled, sometimes a mule or a cow crippled; but always something.\nThe sound of it was heard with dismay, except by Aaron.\n\nIt was no wonder, therefore, that the negroes came out of their cabins\nwith alarm painted on their faces. It was no wonder they stood transfixed\nwhen they saw the horse flying along the road, his thick mane whipping\nthe wind, with the two children on his back. They had no time to admire\nthe strength and symmetry of the horse, and yet he presented a beautiful\nsight\u2014his glossy neck arched, his long mane enveloping the children as in\na cloud, the undulations of his magnificent form and his swift movements\nthe perfection of grace.\n\nOnce more, as he thundered across the bridge that spanned the stream\nleading from the spring, the black stallion screamed forth his note of\ndefiance. A man, coming along the road, went over the fence as nimbly as\na squirrel. Cows grazing in the fields, near the roadside, hoisted their\ntails in the air and ran off to the woods. The mules in the horse lot ran\naround aimlessly, and then huddled themselves together in a corner. The\nGray Pony went scampering through the peach orchard, hunting a place of\nsafety.\n\nThen the cry went up from the negro quarters, \u201cTimoleon\u2019s loose!\nTimoleon\u2019s loose!\u201d The cry was echoed at the big house. The children\u2019s\nfather laid down the book he was reading, and went out upon the veranda,\nfollowed quickly by his wife. The grandfather rose from his easy chair\nand joined them. They heard the tremendous clatter of hoofs on the hard\nroad and the screaming stallion. They saw Aaron running up the avenue,\nfollowed by Drusilla. Calamity seemed to have swooped down upon the\nplantation. A negro woman, bolder than the rest, had managed to run to\nthe big house. She rushed through it, without regard for ceremony.\n\n\u201cMistiss, dem blessed chillun\u201d\u2014\n\nShe wanted to say were riding the runaway stallion, but she sank to the\nfloor, speechless.\n\n\u201cOh, my children! my children! Where are my precious children?\u201d cried the\nmother.\n\nAt that moment Aaron reached the avenue gate, opened it wide, and the\nblack stallion cantered through it, and came galloping down the drive.\n\n\u201cI see the children,\u201d said the white-haired grandfather. \u201cThey are safe.\nThey have been giving Timoleon his exercise. See! they are laughing and\nwaving their hands!\u201d\n\nThe mother looked, but the sight seemed to terrify her so that she\ncovered her face with her hands. Only for a moment, however. She looked\nagain, thinking they were wringing their hands and crying for help. But,\nno! they were really laughing. In front of the yard gate there was an\nornamental circle, filled with neatly trimmed box-wood, privet and acacia\nbushes. Coming to this circle Timoleon turned to the right and galloped\naround it, the children waving their hands to their mother, father and\ngrandfather. With his waving mane and flowing tail, his arched and\nshining neck, and his graceful movements, the horse presented a spectacle\nlong to be remembered.\n\n\u201cWhy, they are riding him with a halter!\u201d cried the father, taking fresh\nalarm.\n\n\u201cHow many times have I told you he is the gentlest horse I ever knew?\u201d\nsighed the grandfather. \u201cAh, what a magnificent creature he is! What a\npity he is penned on this plantation!\u201d\n\nThree times around the circle Timoleon galloped, and then wheeled toward\nthe gate that led to the stable lot. The children waved a mock farewell\nto the still astonished spectators, who, standing on the veranda, heard\nTimoleon go clattering to the rear of the house.\n\nThe mother recovering from her fright, which was serious, became very\nangry, and this was not serious at all.\n\n\u201cThat is Aaron\u2019s work,\u201d she cried, \u201cand the children shall never go about\nhim any more.\u201d\n\n\u201cAaron will thank you, if you\u2019ll stick to your word,\u201d said the\ngrandfather. \u201cI bought Aaron fifteen years ago, and I have never had\noccasion to undo anything he has ever done. I owe him a debt of gratitude\nthat I could never repay if I were to live a thousand years.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know, father\u2014I know,\u201d replied the children\u2019s mother, more gently. \u201cBut\nhe gave me a terrible fright just now.\u201d\n\nTimoleon galloped to his stable, and stood there waiting for Aaron.\nSweetest Susan, holding to Buster John\u2019s hand, slid to the ground, and\nthen Buster John followed suit.\n\n\u201cYou might take the halter off, little one,\u201d said Timoleon, and he held\nhis head so that the youngster could unbuckle the strap. Then the horse\nbegan to graze as contentedly as any farm animal. Presently Aaron came\nwith a bucket of cool water from the spring. Timoleon buried his nose in\nit, drank his fill, and then washed his mouth by sucking up the water\nand letting it run out over his tongue and teeth. Then the blanket was\nremoved and the Grandson of Abdallah stretched himself on the warm grass\nand had a good wallow. After that Aaron rubbed him off thoroughly, gave\nhim a bait of oats, and, while he ate, went over his silky coat with a\ncurrycomb and brush, whistling all the while in a peculiar way.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nGRISTLE, THE GRAY PONY, BEGINS HIS STORY.\n\n\nThe ride on Timoleon, which was an exciting one from start to finish, was\nenough fun for the children for one day. They sought no other amusement.\nWhen they had seen Aaron feed and groom the horse, they went to the big\nhouse, where they knew the ride had created a sensation. There, in answer\nto numberless questions asked by their mother, they told a part of the\nstory of their ride. They said nothing about hearing Timoleon talk, for\nthey knew that not even their grandfather would believe that part of the\nstory. But they told all about the ride, how swiftly and easily the horse\nwent, and how gentle he was. Buster John was, of course, quite a hero,\nand Sweetest Susan shared all the honors with him.\n\nThe children\u2019s mother had more than half a notion to read them a lecture;\nbut the white-haired grandfather protested against this. He said the\nyoungsters were perfectly safe in Aaron\u2019s care. He declared he didn\u2019t\nwant to see boys play the part of girls, nor girls act like dolls. Then\nhe began to talk about Little Crotchet, who had been so fond of Aaron. It\nwas curious to the children to hear the white-haired grandfather talk of\ntheir uncle (whom they had never seen) as though he were a little boy.\n\n\u201cIt seems but yesterday,\u201d said the old gentleman, with a gentle sigh that\nended in a smile, \u201cthat Little Crotchet was hobbling through the house on\nhis crutches, or scampering about the neighborhood on the Gray Pony. But\nthe Gray Pony is grazing out there in the orchard, and Little Crotchet\nhas been dead these fifteen years. If he were alive now, he would be\ntwenty-nine years old.\u201d\n\nThe old gentleman fell to musing, and sat silent for a little while. Then\nhe went on, as if talking to himself:\u2014\n\n\u201cAnd I am seventy-three, and Aaron is forty, and, let me see, the pony is\neighteen, and Timoleon seventeen. All getting old.\u201d\n\n\u201cUncle Crotchet wasn\u2019t always crippled, was he, grandfather?\u201d asked\nSweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cOh, no,\u201d replied the old gentleman. \u201cUntil he was seven years old he was\nas healthy a child as I ever saw. Then he was suddenly taken ill, and\nlay in his bed for months. After that he was never able to walk without\ncrutches. Twenty-nine years old! Why, he\u2019d be a man grown. As it is, he\nis still a little boy. I remember,\u201d the grandfather continued, becoming\nreminiscent, \u201cwhen he wanted me to buy Aaron. From the very first the two\nhad a fancy for each other. Aaron came from Virginia in a speculator\u2019s\ncaravan. He became so unmanageable that he had to be sold. Little\nCrotchet begged me to buy him, but I stood joking with the little fellow,\nand before I knew it our neighbor across the creek had bought him.\u201d\n\n\u201cOld Mr. Gossett?\u201d inquired Buster John.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied the grandfather. \u201cMr. Gossett bought Aaron. Little\nCrotchet was so distressed about it that I offered Mr. Gossett half as\nmuch more for Aaron than he had given. But he refused it. Then I offered\nhim twice as much, and he refused that, and I didn\u2019t feel able to give\nany more.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t Mr. Gossett sell Aaron?\u201d asked Buster John. \u201cI\u2019ve heard\nhe\u2019s very fond of money.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s a queer man,\u201d responded the grandfather, \u201chard in some things and\nclever enough in others. He had heard the speculator say that Aaron was a\nvery dangerous character, and so Mr. Gossett declared that he was going\nto tame him. Gossett was a much younger man then than he is now, and\nabout as reckless as any one in the county. I remember he said something\nin a light way that made Little Crotchet angry, and the lad spurred the\nGray Pony at him and would have rode him down but for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas he riding the Gray Pony, grandfather?\u201d asked Buster John.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d replied the old gentleman with a sigh: \u201cyes, the Gray Pony. It was\nfifteen years ago, but it seems but yesterday.\u201d\n\nThe grandfather was silent after that, and the children said no more.\nThey went to bed when bedtime came, but not before Buster John had made\nup his mind to rise bright and early the next morning and call on the\nGray Pony. He told Sweetest Susan and Drusilla of his plan, and they said\nthey were anxious to go, too. So it was arranged that the housemaid\nshould wake them when she came in from the quarters.\n\nThis was done, and to the surprise of everybody whose business it was to\nbe up early, the children sallied forth a little after sunrise. They went\ninto the orchard, hunting for the Gray Pony. Before they had gone far, a\nrabbit jumped up right at their feet, ran off a little distance, and then\nsat up and looked at them.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s very much like Mr. Rabbit,\u201d said Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s lots better lookin\u2019,\u201d remarked Drusilla, who had never forgiven Mr.\nRabbit for mistaking her for the Tar Baby.\n\nWhile they were standing there looking at the rabbit, Sweetest Susan\nlifted her hands suddenly and uttered an exclamation that startled Buster\nJohn and Drusilla, and sent the rabbit scurrying off through the sedge.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter?\u201d asked Buster John.\n\n\u201cOh, to-day is Sunday!\u201d cried Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cWhy, of course it is Sunday,\u201d said Buster John. \u201cWhat of it? Is it any\nharm to walk through an old peach orchard hunting for a pony?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: A RABBIT JUMPED UP AT THEIR FEET]\n\n\u201cNo-o-o,\u201d replied Sweetest Susan, hesitatingly.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, then?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing. I had forgotten it was Sunday, and just happened to think about\nit,\u201d Sweetest Susan replied demurely.\n\nGoing forward and looking about the orchard, the children soon saw the\nGray Pony grazing in a fence corner at the further side. As they went\ntoward him, the Gray Pony saw them and began to move away, backing his\nears and showing signs of irritation.\n\n\u201cLeave me alone,\u201d said the Pony. \u201cI don\u2019t want to run through these\nbriars and scratch myself. Go away. I don\u2019t want to see you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait,\u201d cried Buster John; \u201cI want to talk to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cShucks and smutty nubbins!\u201d exclaimed the Pony. \u201cYou can hardly talk to\nyourselves. I don\u2019t want you about me. All you can do is to throw rocks\nand poke sticks at me through the fence. Go away. I might accidentally\nhurt you. I wouldn\u2019t be sorry if I did, but they\u2019d send me off to the\nriver place, and I don\u2019t want to go there and get curkle burrs in my mane\nand tail.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I can talk to you,\u201d persisted Buster John. \u201cI can understand\neverything you say.\u201d\n\nThe Gray Pony tossed his head contemptuously. \u201cGo off\u2014go off. Yonder\ncomes Aaron. The Son of Ben Ali will make you let me alone.\u201d\n\nSure enough, Aaron was coming along the orchard path with a bucket of\nbran. Presently he called the Gray Pony. \u201cCome, Gristle, come.\u201d\n\nThe Pony kicked up his heels, shook his head, and went galloping toward\nAaron as hard as he could go. When the children came up to where the Pony\nwas eating his bran, they found him disputing with Aaron. If the children\ndidn\u2019t know how to talk to him day before yesterday, how could they talk\nnow? That\u2019s what he\u2019d like to know.\n\n\u201cGristle, listen! If you didn\u2019t have this bran-mash an hour ago, how can\nyou be sticking your nose in it now? That\u2019s what I\u2019d like to know.\u201d\n\nThe Pony snorted so hard that he blew the wet bran all around. \u201cHow did\nthey learn to talk to us?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cThey have been touched,\u201d replied Aaron.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the Gray Pony, \u201cthat changes things. That alters the case.\nI\u2019m sorry I abused them. But that boy there hasn\u2019t been very good to\nme. I\u2019ve seen no boy like Little Crotchet. I saw them riding the black\nstallion yesterday. How was that?\u201d\n\n\u201cHaven\u2019t I told you, Gristle? They have been touched. They have the sign.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see,\u201d responded the Gray Pony. \u201cThat changes things. That alters the\ncase. But what do they want with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey can answer for themselves, Gristle. They are here.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, we wanted you to tell us about the time when my Uncle Crotchet\nasked grandfather to buy Uncle Aaron.\u201d\n\nThe Pony drew away from the bucket of wet bran and looked at the\nchildren. Then he looked at Aaron. \u201cWell!\u201d he snorted, \u201chow did they\nknow?\u201d\n\nAaron laughed and pointed toward the big house. \u201cThey heard it there,\nfrom the White-haired Master. They are our friends, Gristle. They know\nthe sign.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat alters the case,\u201d said the Gray Pony for the third time, \u201cbut the\nstory is a long one. To-day is the day when you get in the carriage and\ngo where the talking-man lives. I used to carry the Little Master there,\none day in every week, from the time he could ride.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe means to preaching,\u201d explained Aaron, and the explanation made the\nchildren laugh.\n\n\u201cCome to-morrow,\u201d said the Gray Pony; \u201cthen everybody will be at work,\nand we shall have no one to bother us.\u201d\n\nAaron thought that this was a good idea, and at his suggestion, the\nchildren agreed to it, though not with a very good grace. To-morrow\nseemed to be so far off.\n\nBut time rolled away on the plantation as it did elsewhere, and some time\nduring the night, when the children were fast asleep, and snoring, maybe,\nto-morrow became to-day. After breakfast, when they had gone over their\nlessons with their grandfather, who taught them, to amuse himself, they\nwent out and found the Gray Pony, carrying him some green corn.\n\n[Illustration: THEY CARRIED HIM SOME GREEN CORN]\n\n\u201cNow, I like that,\u201d said the Pony switching his tail vigorously. \u201cI\u2019ve\nhad a bad taste in my mouth all day, and this green corn will drive\nit away.\u201d He munched at it a little while, looking at the children\noccasionally, and then began:\n\n\u201cI was very fond of the Little Master from the first. The White-haired\nMaster found me in a drove of mules and horses in a pen in town. We had\ntraveled hundreds of miles, and though I was young and tough, I was very\nstiff and tired. But the drover cracked his whip, separated me from the\nrest, and ran me into a corner of the pen, where I stood trembling,\nbecause I didn\u2019t know what moment the lash would crack on my back, as it\nhad cracked many times before. The White-haired Master\u2014his hair was as\ngray as mine even then\u2014held the Little Master in his arms, and when they\ncame near I stood still and allowed the little fellow to pat my back and\nstroke my neck. The Little Master cried: \u2018Father buy him! I like him!\u2019\n\n\u201cThat was enough. A negro came and put a halter on me, and led me from\nthe pen. Soon some one brought a bridle, and then a small saddle. After\nawhile the Little Master was placed on my back, and some one handed him\ntwo heavy sticks. I was alarmed at first, fearing I was to be beaten with\nthem, but when I flinched the Little Master stroked my neck, and I had\nno more fear. The sticks he carried along to help him over the ground\nwhen he was not riding, and he used them nimbly.\n\n\u201cSo we came home, and grew to know each other. In cold weather I had a\nwarm stable to rest in, and a heavy blanket to sleep under. In pleasant\nweather I had cool water twice a day, and young corn and green barley.\nPeople used to say he rode me too hard at times, but it was not so. It\nwas a pleasure to him and no harm to me.\n\n\u201cOne day there came to him from far away a teacher\u2014a young man with brown\nhair and blue eyes\u2014and for a time the Little Master was troubled. He had\nno desire to sit in the house for hours and do nothing but read in the\nbooks. I used to watch for him through the fence, and he was very proud\nindeed when he found that I knew his voice from the rest and would follow\nhim about without bridle or halter. I missed him when the teacher came,\nand I used to go to the fence and call him.\n\n\u201cBut I missed him only a day or two. The teacher was a wise young man,\nand he soon saw that if the Little Master was to be taught at all, the\nteaching must go on in the open air, with no more books to bother with\nthan he could carry in one hand. So it came to pass that every day the\nlittle master would call for me, and then we would go on long journeys\nthrough the woods and fields, the teacher walking with me.\n\n\u201cSometimes the teacher would carry books in his hand, but he carried more\nin his head. He was wise. He knew the poisonous plants and vines almost\nas well as I did, and I used to wonder how he found them out, not having\nto eat them. This went on whenever the weather was pleasant, and I heard\nthe teacher from far away say to the little master that he was learning\na great deal more of the things that were in the books, than if he were\nshut up in a tight room with the books themselves. If I could have\nremembered all I heard, I\u2019d be pretty well educated myself.\n\n\u201cOne morning I was fed early. I heard the negroes say that the\nWhite-haired Master, the Little Master, and the teacher were going to\ntown. It was court week, they said. The judge and jury were going to sit\nand punish men for being meaner than the animals. I thought it was very\nfunny. But I ate my breakfast with a better appetite, because I knew none\nof my kith and kin were to be hauled up before the judge and jury for\ncheating and swindling, and drinking and gambling.\n\n\u201cSo we went to town, the Little Master and I. The White-haired Master and\nthe teacher rode in the buggy. We kept with them a little way, but the\nweather was fine and the roads were good, and after a while the Little\nMaster gave me the rein, which I had been asking for ever so long, and I\ncantered forward, leaving the buggy far behind and out of sight.\n\n\u201cI cantered on in this way, up hill and down hill\u2014for it was as easy as\nwalking\u2014until we came nearly to the town. Then suddenly the Little Master\nreached forward and touched me on the shoulder. It was the way he had of\nwarning me. We were coming to a point where another road led into ours,\nand it was well the Little Master warned me when he did. Else, when I saw\nwhat I did, I should have given a start that would have unseated him; for\nright before me, coming slowly our road, was a train of huge wagons,\ncovered with white cloth. There were five wagons, each pulled by two\nmules. In front of the foremost wagon a file of negroes was marching,\ntwo by two. There must have been forty odd in all. At first I thought\nthey were pulling the wagon, for there was a stout rope reaching from the\nend of the wagon tongue to the foremost negro of the file, and the end\nwas fastened to his waist. On each side of this rope the other negroes\nwalked, and I soon saw that every one was handcuffed to the rope.\n\n[Illustration: THE SLAVE TRAIN]\n\n\u201cThe sight of all this,\u201d said the gray pony, continuing his story,\n\u201csurprised me so that I stopped in the road, and came near tucking tail\nand running back the way I came. But the Little Master was never afraid\nof anything. He stroked my shoulder and scolded me, too, and urged me\nforward. Now there was nothing about this wagon train to frighten me.\nI had seen wagon trains before. But this one loomed up so suddenly and\nunexpectedly that it made me have a queer, shivery feeling, as when I\nhear a horse-fly zooning around and don\u2019t know where he is going to\nlight. It happened that the wagons were on a sandy level, and neither\ntheir wheels nor the mules\u2019 feet made any noise. The negroes were\nmarching along as silently as the shadows that run on the ground when the\nmoon is shining and the clouds are flying. It was the first time I had\never seen negroes going along the road together in utter silence. They\nwere neither talking nor laughing, and they seemed to be very far from\nsinging.\n\n\u201cGoing nearer, I saw that the negro drivers were chained to the wagons.\nOn each side of the file of marching negroes rode a white man, a shotgun\nlying across his lap. I thought the negroes were prisoners, and that the\nmen were carrying them to court for the judge and jury to sit on them. So\nthe Little Master thought, for he urged me forward until we came up with\nthe man who rode near the tall negro at the head of the file.\n\n\u201c\u2018Good-morning,\u2019 said the Little Master to the man.\n\n\u201c\u2018Good-day, sonny,\u2019 replied the man, but he kept his eye on the negro at\nthe head of the file.\n\n\u201c\u2018Whose negroes are these?\u2019 the Little Master asked.\n\n\u201c\u2018Mine,\u2019 said the man, smacking his lips over it; \u2018every one mine.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen we went on in silence. The Little Master had a way, when he\nwas puzzled, of reaching over the saddle and twisting a wisp of mane\nbetween his fingers. He did this now. He curled the wisp of hair on his\nforefinger and uncurled it ever so many times, as we went on in silence.\nI noticed that the negro at the head of the file had his arms tied at the\nelbows. The whole weight of the long rope, which was a big one, fell on\nthis negro, but he was tall and strong and moved forward without sign of\ndistress.\n\n\u201cPresently the Little Master spoke to the man again. \u2018What have your\nnegroes done that they should be carried to jail?\u2019\n\n\u201cThe man laughed loudly, as he replied: \u2018I\u2019m not carrying them to jail.\nThey are for sale.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Then you are a negro speculator,\u2019 said the Little Master.\n\n\u201c\u2018That\u2019s what some people call me, sonny; speculator or what not, I have\nnegroes for sale. If you want to buy one, I\u2019ll sell you that buck at the\nhead of the gang. He\u2019s the finest of the lot, but I\u2019ll sell him cheap.\nHe\u2019s worse than a tiger.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Little Master urged me forward until we came to the side of the man\nat the head of the file. That was my first sight of the Son of Ben Ali. I\nknew at once that he was no negro. The Little Master spoke to him, and he\nsmiled as he answered.\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ll sell him cheap, sonny,\u2019 said the man; \u2018name your own price, give\nme the money, and take him.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Little Master slapped the pommel of his saddle, and I knew by that\nhe was angry. But what he intended to say was never said, for just then\nthe White-haired Master and the teacher came by in the buggy, going at a\nsweeping trot, and the Little Master gave me the rein to follow, which I\nwas more than glad to do. Never before had I seen the White-haired Master\nuse the whip on old Sorrel, the buggy horse, but he used it that day, and\nI had hard work to catch up and keep up. The teacher had turned in his\nseat and watched the file of negroes and the covered wagons as far as he\ncould see them. There was a frown on his face, and his eyes had a queer\nlight in them. I always dodge when a man looks at me that way.\n\n\u201cI think the White-haired Master wanted to get the teacher away from that\nprocession of negroes. I heard them talking as I cantered behind the\nbuggy.\n\n\u201c\u2018You are from the North, and, of course, you don\u2019t understand these\nthings,\u2019 said the White-haired Master.\n\n\u201c\u2018You are right,\u2019 replied the teacher. \u2018I don\u2019t understand them at all.\nI\u2019m truly sorry I saw that sight. I shall see it again in my dreams.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I have been living here fifty years,\u2019 the White-haired Master remarked,\n\u2018and that is the second time I ever saw it.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe teacher said nothing more, and we soon entered the town, where there\nwas a great many people. Hitched to one of the racks I saw a roan mule\nthat had given me a vicious bite when we were in the drove together.\nHe was poor enough now, and his ears hung dejectedly. I wanted to stop\nand read him a moral, but the Little Master bade me go on, and I had no\nopportunity to speak to my old tormentor.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nGRISTLE, THE GRAY PONY, CONCLUDES HIS STORY.\n\n\nThe Little Master gave me a drink of cool water from the well in the\npublic square, and then he had me carried to a comfortable stall in the\nstable behind the old tavern. I don\u2019t know how long I stayed there, but\nby the time I had dropped off into a comfortable doze, dreaming that I\nwas nibbling sassafras buds in the orchard at home, a negro came running\ninto the stable and into my stall. He came upon me so sudden that I\nturned in the stall to get out of his way, and nearly mashed the breath\nout of him. He limped along and led me to the front of the tavern. There\nI saw the Little Master waiting to mount, and I went toward him gladly\nenough.\n\n\u201cI thought we were to go home, but my thoughts jumped ahead of facts. I\nsoon saw that the speculator\u2019s wagons and his file of negroes had come\ninto town, and had stopped to rest on the public square, where a great\ncrowd had gathered around them\u2014some out of curiosity and some out of\nsympathy. I heard an old horse, blind in one eye, say to a companion tied\nnear that such sights were seldom seen in these parts. The Little Master\nhad sent for me, so that, by sitting on my back, he would be as tall as\nany of the men.\n\n\u201cHe rode me into the crowd that had gathered around the negroes. The\npeople made way for him, and I soon found myself so close to the Son of\nBen Ali that he could touch my nose with his hand, although his elbows\nwere pinioned. So that he was able to give me the sign, and I knew him\nand spoke to him and he to me; whereupon he knew that he had found one\nfriend there. He had found two friends, for the Little Master stretched\nforth his hands, white as a flower, and touched the Son of Ben Ali on the\ncheek, where there was the mark of a wound, saying, \u2018Poor fellow! I am\nsorry for you.\u2019 And the Son of Ben Ali reached up the best he could, his\narms being pinioned, and took the white hand of the Little Master in his,\nand pressed it to his forehead and then to his lips. After that he held\nhis head higher, so that he looked over all that stood around him and\nbeyond him, and smiled a little.\n\n\u201cBut just then the man who owned him came hustling toward us, untied\nthe rope to which the Son of Ben Ali was chained and pushed him roughly\nthrough the crowd to the sheriff\u2019s block that stood near the court house\ndoor. This he made the Son of Ben Ali mount, so that all might see him.\nAs he stood there, without a coat, the collar of his shirt thrown open,\nand the muscles of his chest swelling and falling, he seemed to be a man\namong men. When the white man stood on the block beside him, the crown of\nhis hat was no higher than the Son of Ben Ali\u2019s shoulder.\n\n[Illustration: BEN ALI HAD FOUND TWO FRIENDS]\n\n\u201cThe man made a speech to the people. I don\u2019t remember everything he\nsaid, but I could see he hated the Son of Ben Ali, and was afraid of\nhim. He was ready to jump from the block and run. But the Son of Ben\nAli paid no attention to him. He had his eyes fixed on the face of the\nLittle Master, following every movement he made, and always smiling. The\nLittle Master kept his eyes on the White-haired Master, and called and\nbeckoned to him. But somehow\u2014I couldn\u2019t see what the trouble was\u2014the\nWhite-haired Master appeared to be very busy. He was talking with a man\nwho was a stranger to me, and, although he heard the Little Master, and\nnodded and smiled at him, he kept on talking. I went toward him without\nany urging, and when we got there he was talking about constitutions and\nother government contraptions, and seemed to be very warm over it. I\nwas so disgusted that I snorted as often and as loud as I could, and if\npeople had only known it, there was more horse sense in one of my snorts\nthan there was in all the politics I have heard from that day to this.\n\n\u201cBut all this time the speculator, or trader, or whatever you call him,\nwas calling to the crowd to come and see the fine bargain he was going to\noffer. I had one ear for the trader and another for the Little Master.\nOne said:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Come up, gentlemen, and see what a sacrifice I am going to make. Come\nup, and I\u2019ll tell you why.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe other said: \u2018Come, father, please come! You\u2019ll be too late!\u2019 The\nWhite-haired Master nodded and smiled. \u2018Presently, son; presently.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe trader said: \u2018Walk right up, gentlemen, and I\u2019ll tell you the truth.\nI\u2019m selling this boy because he\u2019s too tricky to travel with. He\u2019s bad\ntempered and hard headed. What he needs is a master who will take time to\nmake him buckle down to work.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Little Master said: \u2018Father, come. Oh, don\u2019t wait any longer.\u2019 The\nWhite-haired Master smiled. \u2018Yes, yes!\u2019 and placed his hand on my neck,\nwhereupon I snorted and shook it off.\n\n\u201cThe trader cried out at the top of his voice: \u2018Come up, gentlemen! Come\nup! Look at this boy\u2019s limbs. Look at his muscles. Not a flaw about him,\nexcept his temper. What am I offered, cash down, for this likely fellow?\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Little Master said: \u2018Please, please hurry, father! You\u2019ll be too\nlate. The man is selling him now!\u2019 The air was blue with state rights and\nconstitutions. I shook my head and gave a loud whicker. This seemed to\nirritate the White-haired Master, for he ceased to smile and joke.\n\n\u201c\u2018Go buy him yourself,\u2019 he said, sharply.\n\n\u201c\u2018How much shall I bid, father?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Up to twelve hundred dollars.\u2019\n\n\u201cBefore the Little Master could take the bridle reins in his hand, I\nwheeled and cantered toward the crowd that had gathered around the\nsheriff\u2019s block, where the Son of Ben Ali stood.\n\n\u201cThe trader was saying: \u2018How much am I offered? How much? Look at him,\ngentlemen! As sound as a dollar!\u2019\n\n\u201cThe man who lives across the creek\u2014Mr. Goshawk\u2014no\u2014Mr. Gossett\u2014got on the\nblock with the Son of Ben Ali and put on his spectacles and looked at\nhim, and felt of him, and thumped him on the back, and punched him in the\nsides. The Son of Ben Ali never flinched nor moved a muscle. He kept his\neyes fixed on the Little Master. But, after all, what could the Little\nMaster do? He was but a child.\n\n\u201cMr. Gossett came down from the block, took off his spectacles, and said\nsomething to the trader, who then cried out:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018What do you think, good people? I am asked to give this boy away! My\nfriend here offers me five hundred dollars for the finest hand that ever\nstood on the block in this country. Five hundred dollars! I am offered\nfive hundred dollars!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Seven hundred dollars!\u2019 cried the Little Master.\n\n\u201cThe trader stopped and looked at the Little Master, as if he thought the\nbid was a joke.\n\n\u201c\u2018Who said seven hundred?\u2019 he asked.\n\n\u201c\u2018I did,\u2019 cried the Little Master.\n\n\u201c\u2018Seven hundred it is,\u2019 said the trader. \u2018I am offered seven hundred\u2014only\nseven hundred!\u2019\n\n\u201cMr. Gossett said something to the trader, who cried out: \u2018Eight hundred!\nI am offered eight hundred!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Nine hundred!\u2019 said the Little Master.\n\n\u201c\u2018That is right!\u2019 cried the trader. \u2018In this country even the children\nhave saddle-bags full of money. Nine hundred! I am offered nine hundred!\u2019\n\n\u201cMr. Gossett nodded his head. I was watching him.\n\n\u201c\u2018One thousand!\u2019 cried the trader. \u2018I am offered one thousand! Am I to\ngive this man away for one thousand dollars?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Twelve hundred,\u2019 said the Little Master in a voice as clear as a bell.\n\n\u201cThis seemed to stagger the trader. He looked at the Little Master, and\nthen he looked at the crowd. He shook his head, and then some of the\npeople laughed. This made others laugh, and then the trader, very red in\nthe face, turned to Mr. Gossett and said:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018I don\u2019t like to be made a fool of. This negro is yours, sir, for one\nthousand dollars.\u2019\n\n\u201cThis made the people laugh again, but the Little Master didn\u2019t laugh.\nHe cried to the crowd around. \u2018Get out of the way here!\u2019 and gave me the\nword to push my way through. I needed neither whip nor spur for that, and\nthe people in front of me had as much as they could do to scuffle and\nscramble out of my way.\n\n\u201c\u2018Here, sir, what does this mean?\u2019 cried the Little Master. \u2018I bid twelve\nhundred dollars, and you sell him for one thousand dollars. What do you\nmean?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Don\u2019t bother me, sonny,\u2019 the man replied. \u2018The negro is mine. I sell\nhim for what I please. This gentleman here,\u2019 he pointed to Mr. Gossett,\n\u2018said you were playing one of your pranks. I\u2019ve no time for pranks. If\nyou are not pranking, plank down your twelve hundred dollars on that\nblock there.\u2019\n\n\u201cMr. Gossett had taken from his pocket a long red book, and was already\ncounting out the money he had bid. Then and there a thing happened that\nhas never been understood by anybody but me. Everybody will tell you that\nthe Little Master tried to ride over and run down Mr. Gossett, but it is\nnot so. The Little Master had no more to do with it than the old buggy\nhorse who was tied to the rack near by. I felt the Little Master\u2019s hand\nshake as it rested on my shoulder, and I heard him sob. I was so mad that\neverything grew dark except Mr. Gossett\u2019s face. I plunged at him and\ntried to get his head in my mouth, but he saw me coming and fell backward\nand rolled out of the way before I could reach him, nor could I trample\nhim. His luck saved him.\n\n\u201cAnd then somebody caught my bridle and gave it a jerk that brought me to\nmy senses. Whoever it was led me out of the crowd and away from the court\nhouse. I could feel the Little Master shaking in the saddle, and I knew\nhe was crying, but I held my head down, not knowing what to do or where\nto go.\n\n\u201cPresently the White-haired Master, hearing of the commotion, came\nrunning toward us. His face was as white as a sheet.\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, my son! my darling boy! What is the trouble?\u2019 He placed his arms\naround the Little Master. \u2018Oh, tell your father! Has any one dared to\nhurt so much as your little finger? There, don\u2019t cry any more.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen the Little Master told him what you have already heard, his voice\nshaking and his white hands trembling.\n\n\u201c\u2018Wait!\u2019 said the White-haired Master.\n\n\u201cWith that he suddenly turned and went toward the crowd at the court\nhouse. I followed, though the Little Master never touched a rein. The\npeople seemed to expect something, and they made way for the White-haired\nMaster, and for me, with my nose at his coat-tails.\n\n\u201c\u2018Has the sale been closed?\u2019 he asked sharply. His words snapped out like\nthe popping of a whip.\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, sir; yes, sir\u2014it has been closed,\u2019 the trader replied. He was as\nhumble and polite as one of his poor negroes.\n\n\u201c\u2018Gossett!\u2019 said the White-haired Master\u2014his voice sounded as I have\nheard it when he was talking to a lazy plough hand\u2014\u2018Gossett! I will give\nyou fifteen hundred dollars for your bargain.\u2019\n\n\u201cMr. Gossett shook his head and smiled, showing two or three yellow\nteeth. I was so anxious to get at him that the Little Master was\ncompelled to slap me with the slack of the bridle reins and bid me stand\nstill.\n\n\u201c\u2018No,\u2019 said Mr. Gossett, \u2018I\u2019d ruther have the nigger than the money.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019ll give you two thousand dollars,\u2019 persisted the White-haired Master.\n\n\u201cMr. Gossett showed his yellow teeth again. \u2018Well, sir,\u2019 he said, \u2018if\nhe\u2019s worth that to you, he\u2019s worth it to me. The fact is, I want to tame\nthe nigger. They say he\u2019s as wild as a buck, and as hard-headed as a\nmule. I want to tame him.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe White-haired Master turned to the trader. \u2018Why did you insult my son\nand me by refusing to cry his last bid?\u2019 He caught the man by the throat\nand shook him. The people gave back and scattered a little at this, for\nin those times men were quick to use their knives and pistols. But the\ntrader had no idea of using his, though he had both in his belt.\n\n\u201c\u2018Let me explain, sir; let me explain,\u2019 he cried, as the White-haired\nMaster released his hold. \u2018That gentleman there said the youngster was\nonly playing me one of his jokes.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What gentleman?\u2019 the White-haired Master asked, as quick as a flash. He\nwheeled and looked around, as if searching for some one. The people were\nstill afraid a fight was about to take place, and they stood off some\ndistance, but not so far that they couldn\u2019t hear every word that was said.\n\n\u201c\u2018What gentleman?\u2019 the White-haired Master repeated, facing the trader.\n\n\u201cThe trader went to Mr. Gossett and touched his shoulder so as to make no\nmistake. \u2018This is the gentleman, sir,\u2019 he said.\n\n\u201cAt this the White-haired Master fairly roared with laughter. \u2018Pay him\nanother hundred, Gossett\u2014pay him another hundred! He has earned it.\nYou\u2019ll not find another man in the county to pay you such a compliment.\u2019\n\n\u201cThere must have been some joke or hit in this, for the people laughed\neven louder than the White-haired Master, and Mr. Gossett turned very red\nin the face. But if it was a joke it passed over my head. I saw no fun\nin it, and neither did the Son of Ben Ali, who had drawn near and was\nfondling the thin white hand of the Little Master in his.\u201d\n\nHere the Gray Pony paused and held his head up as if he heard a noise\nsomewhere. Then he cropped off a bunch of peach leaves and chewed on\nthem, to all appearances relishing their flavor. This done, he scratched\nhis neck by rubbing it against the peach-tree, which was old and rough.\nThe children sat absorbed in the story he was telling.\n\n\u201cNow, right here,\u201d the Gray Pony went on, \u201ctwo or three things happened\nso close together that the quickest eye could hardly separate them. If I\ntold them as they happened I should have to tell them all at once, but\nthis can\u2019t be done, not even in your tongue. So I\u2019ll have to blunder\nalong the best I know how. In cantering or galloping I always start off\non my right forefoot. A man taught me that with a whip, and I\u2019ve never\nbeen able to forget it. That foot comes down heaviest, and I always\nfling the right foreshoe first. It was loose when we started from home\nthat morning, and when I jumped at Mr. Gossett I wrenched it nearly off.\nFor a time I didn\u2019t mind it, but every time I stamped my foot to drive\nthe flies away it rang and rattled like a cow bell. The Son of Ben Ali,\nhearing it rattle as he stood by the Little Master, stooped and placed\nhis hand on my knee. I gave him my foot, and he drew the shoe off by\ngiving it a slight twist with his fingers.\n\n\u201cWhen the White-haired Master told Mr. Gossett to pay the trader another\nhundred dollars he made a step toward the man to see what he would do.\nAt that moment Mr. Gossett\u2019s son George, a great rowdy and bully, came\nrushing through the crowd. He was red in the face and fairly foaming at\nthe mouth. He came crying, \u2018Is pap in a fuss? Where are you, pap?\u2019 He had\na pistol in his hand, and when he saw the White-haired Master standing\nso near his pap, as he called him, he bellowed like a mad bull, and came\nrushing up, leveling the pistol as he got near.\n\n\u201cThis happened just as the Son of Ben Ali wrenched the shoe from my foot.\nStill stooping he turned his head and saw George Gossett halt and point\nhis pistol at the White-haired Master. I felt the body of the Son of Ben\nAli sway under my neck in the most unaccountable manner, and the next\nmoment I saw young Gossett fall as if he had been struck by lightning.\nThe Son of Ben Ali crept under my belly, and when I saw him again he was\nsitting on the block where he had stood to be sold, his arms folded, and\nhis eyes closed as if he were fast asleep.\n\n\u201cNo one knew what had happened except the Son of Ben Ali and myself. All\neyes had been fixed on George Gossett and the White-haired Master. Some\nsaid Gossett had fallen in a fit of passion and that the blood had burst\nfrom his face. Some said that he had fallen on a horseshoe that happened\nto be lying near. Some said one thing and some another. George Gossett\nalways declared, so I\u2019ve heard, that somebody jabbed him in the face with\na forked stick, but his best friends said he was drunk at the time and\nfell on the horseshoe and hurt himself. But there were some people who\nwhispered it around that they saw the blood gush from his face as he fell\nforward.\n\n\u201cThe matter was never explained, and for many a long day no one but the\nSon of Ben Ali and I knew that Gossett had been hit in the face by one of\nmy shoes. I think the White-haired Master learned the truth by asking\nthe Son of Ben Ali about it one night, when they were returning from a\nlong ride together.\n\n\u201cIn the midst of the excitement, old Mr. Gossett forgot all about the Son\nof Ben Ali. But after the wounded man had been carried to a doctor\u2019s shop\nand physicked, and the doctors had said that he would recover, though the\nbruise was a serious one, Mr. Gossett remembered his purchase, and came\nout to the public square in some alarm, fearing that his newly-bought\nslave had given him the slip. But he had not far to seek. Though the\npublic square was deserted, except for the horses and mules tied to the\nracks and a few people straggling aimlessly about, the Son of Ben Ali\nstill sat on the sheriff\u2019s block, erect and silent, his arms folded and\nhis feet crossed. The trader\u2019s wagons and his train of slaves had passed\non through the town.\n\n\u201cWhen Mr. Gossett saw the Son of Ben Ali sitting where he had left him,\nhe nodded his head approvingly. His son had come to town in a wagon, and\nin this the young man had to be carried home. Straw was spread in the\nbody of the wagon, and into this George Gossett was lifted. The old man\nhad come in a buggy and he made the Son of Ben Ali sit beside him and\ndrive him.\u201d\n\nAt this point the Gray Pony paused and bit at a speckled fly that was\nsitting on his fat side out of reach of the sweep of his tail.\n\n\u201cIs that all?\u201d asked Buster John.\n\n\u201cIt is enough,\u201d replied the Gray Pony. \u201cA few days afterward, being\non the far side of the plantation, I heard a plough mule telling Mr.\nGossett\u2019s buggy horse that the Son of Ben Ali had gone to the woods.\u201d\n\nThe Gray Pony, saying this, turned and walked away.\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nRAMBLER, THE TRACK DOG, BEGINS HIS STORY.\n\n\nThe children thought that they had been treated somewhat impolitely by\nthe Gray Pony, and so, as soon as they could find an opportunity, and\nwhen they thought he was in a good humor, they asked him why he walked\naway so abruptly and refused to tell them the reason Aaron went to the\nwoods and what befell him when he got there.\n\n\u201cAs for that,\u201d the Gray Pony answered, \u201cI know nothing of the matter of\nmy own knowledge. It is all hearsay with me. The Son of Ben Ali can tell\nyou. He knows. He was there.\u201d\n\nThe children had to be content with this until they found an opportunity\nto talk with Aaron. He was very busy during the day, and sometimes at\nnight, managing the affairs of the plantation, but he told them that\nwhenever they saw a light in his cabin right after supper, he would have\ntime to talk to them. This happened the next night. Drusilla saw the\nlight, and told Sweetest Susan and Buster John it was there, and in a few\nminutes they were all in Aaron\u2019s cabin.\n\nThey found him baking a hoecake and frying some bacon, and it smelt so\ngood that Buster John\u2019s mouth began to water, although he had just eaten\nhis supper.\n\n\u201cUncle Aaron,\u201d he said, \u201cI\u2019ll give you two biscuits and a piece of ham\nfor a piece of your hoecake and some of your meat.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo so\u2014do so,\u201d answered Aaron.\n\n\u201cBring four biscuits and two pieces of ham,\u201d cried Sweetest Susan, as\nBuster John rushed out of the door. He returned in a little while with\nfour biscuits, each sandwiched with a piece of ham. Whereupon Aaron\nturned over to the children all his hoecake and fried bacon, which they\ndevoured with a relish which belongs to youth alone. This done, they gave\nAaron to understand what they came for, and he, without any apology,\nexplanation, or delay, such as a negro would have indulged in, and\nlikewise without any humor, told his story. Perhaps there was no room for\nhumor, but a negro would have found a place for it.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t tell you the story as the field hands could,\u201d said Aaron. \u201cThey\nhave a word for everything. What I know is that when I saw the little\nwhite boy crying about me, I was no longer the same man. Something\nswelled here\u201d\u2014touching his throat\u2014\u201cand something broke here\u201d\u2014striking his\nbreast. \u201cI had said to myself, be as cunning as a snake. My mind was made\nup to run away from the man that bought me, and follow the negro trader\nand strangle him in the night. He was a beast. I promised myself that he\nshould live no more. The thoughts made me happy, and then I saw the white\nchild, small and crippled, crying because his father had not bought me.\nI said, what is he to me? And then my hands shook and my knees trembled.\nAnother man crept into my skin and looked out of my eyes. Not since my\nmother shook hands with me and told me good-by when I was a boy had I\nseen anybody crying for me. Then, I said, the man who gets me to-day will\nget a good bargain.\n\n\u201cIn my mind there was but one thought\u2014the child is my Little Master. The\nGray Pony has told you what happened. It was to save the Little Master\u2019s\nfather that I threw the horseshoe. I thought the young man was killed,\nand I said, it is a pity! When I rode home with Mr. Gossett, I kept on\nsaying it is a pity\u2014a great pity; and when my new master asked me if I\nwould treat him right, I smiled and told him I would do the best I could.\nAnd I did. I worked for him as hard as I ever worked for a man. But he\nnever trusted me. He was always watching me.\n\n\u201cOne night, just after sundown, he called me out of my hut\u2014it was not a\ncabin\u2014and said he wanted me to get in the one-horse wagon and take a bale\nof cotton to a neighbor\u2019s house and sell it to him. At once I smelled\ntrouble.\n\n\u201c\u2018But will the man buy it?\u2019 I asked.\n\n\u201cThe answer was: \u2018He may; if he does, the money is yours. If not, no harm\nis done.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I am afraid of the patterrollers,\u2019 said I.\n\n\u201cThe answer was: \u2018I\u2019ll not be far away.\u2019\n\n\u201cI had nothing else to do but go, but I knew there was trouble at the end\nof the road. I had seen negroes lashed for selling their masters\u2019 things,\nand I had seen white men sent to jail for trading with negroes between\ntwo suns. I found out long afterward that Mr. Gossett\u2019s neighbor had\nsome land that he refused to sell. He was not very well off, but he held\nto his land and made poor crops. If he bought the cotton from me, Mr.\nGossett could buy his land or put him in jail. But this was all dark to\nme then.\n\n\u201cI mounted the wagon\u2014But wait! Rambler, the track dog, is here. He knows\nwhat happened. I will call him.\u201d\n\nAaron went to the door of his cabin, put his right hand to his mouth, and\ngave a musical halloo. The dogs were barking in another part of the lot,\nbut they ceased instantly, as if listening. Then Watch, the catch dog,\nbarked three times:\u2014\n\n\u201cWho is it?\u201d\n\nAgain Aaron gave the halloo, and this time it was answered by the\nquavering cry of a hound. Before the children learned the language of\nthe animals, they would have said a dog was howling somewhere on the\nplantation, but now they knew that Rambler was saying:\u2014\n\n\u201cI am c-o-m-i-n-g!\u201d\n\nIn a few minutes he came running into the cabin, his hair damp with the\ndew. He looked rather sheepish, as the saying is, and crouched near\nAaron, as if he expected to be scolded. Once upon a time Rambler had been\na black-and-tan, but he was now old, and the gray hairs had well-nigh\nobliterated the tan, and were encroaching on the black. His muzzle was\nvery gray, and his dew-claws had grown until they were nearly an inch\nand a half long. One of his long ears was split a little at the end, the\nresult of a skirmish with old Mr. Raccoon. He kept his eyes averted from\nAaron and the children and seemed to be both humble and uneasy. He was\nbetter satisfied when Aaron told him what was wanted. Indeed, he became\nvery lively and went about the room picking up the scraps of bread the\nchildren had dropped on the floor. Aaron went to his little pine cupboard\nand got out a pone of corn bread that he had saved from the day before.\nRambler took the bread in his mouth and then placed it gently on the\nfloor. Gently wagging his tail, he looked up in Aaron\u2019s face.\n\n\u201cSon of Ben Ali,\u201d he said, \u201cI am getting old, and, what with gnawing\nbones and killing cats and fighting coons, my teeth are bad. This bread\nis hard.\u201d\n\nWhereupon Aaron took the bread, crushed it in his hands, dropped it in an\nold tin platter, and placed it on the hearth.\n\n\u201cThis would taste better, if it had ham gravy on it,\u201d remarked Rambler,\nafter saying \u201cThanky\u201d with his tail; \u201cyes, a good deal better, but I\u2019ll\nnot be choice.\u201d\n\nWhen he had finished the bread, he seated himself near the chimney corner\nand licked his chops carefully.\n\n\u201cYou want to know about that trip the Son of Ben Ali made to sell the\ncotton. But I don\u2019t even know how to begin. My tongue and my tail will be\nhere talking and wagging, and my mind will be off in the woods hunting\nminks and coons and possums. You know how one thing leads to another.\nWell, if I get started I\u2019ll get things upside down, as the rabbit does\nwhen he tries to run down hill.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen I started with the cotton,\u201d suggested Aaron, \u201cyou made up your mind\nto go with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s so,\u201d said Rambler. \u201cI don\u2019t know why. I knew well enough you\nweren\u2019t going hunting. It was just a notion that seized me. I trotted\nalong sometimes in front of the wagon and sometimes behind it. Before we\nhad gone very far I happened to be in front of the wagon when a rabbit\nran across the road. I dashed after it and bumped my head against a fence\nrail. It hurt so that I sat down by the roadside and waited for the pain\nto go away. The wagon went by and I concluded to go back home and go to\nbed in the shuckpen. I started back, but before I had gone far, I heard\nthe clinking of bridle-reins and bits, and presently I saw two men on\nhorseback.\n\n\u201cI stopped until they passed by. And then I saw that it was Old Grizzly\nand the overseer.\u201d\n\n\u201cOld Grizzly!\u201d cried Buster John. \u201cWho was he?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat was the name the negroes had for Mr. Gossett,\u201d Aaron explained.\n\n[Illustration: A RABBIT DASHED ACROSS THE ROAD]\n\n\u201cOld Grizzly and the overseer,\u201d Rambler continued, paying no attention\nto the interruption. \u201cThey were riding along after the wagon, but at\nsome distance behind it. I says to myself, well, well! something is up.\nSo, instead of going back home, I turned around and trotted along the\nroad till I passed Old Grizzly and the overseer, and caught up with the\nwagon. I said to the Son of Ben Ali:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Get down and fix one of your wagon wheels, and see who comes behind\nyou.\u2019\n\n\u201cThis he did, but when Old Grizzly and the overseer heard the Son of Ben\nAli knocking on one of the wagon wheels with a rock, they stopped, and\ncame no farther until after he drove on again. Then I knew, and the Son\nof Ben Ali knew, that Old Grizzly and the overseer were coming to see\nthat orders were obeyed.\n\n\u201cThe house to which the Son of Ben Ali was carrying the cotton was not\nfar. It was in the midst of a big grove of oak-trees. The trees were too\nbig for the house, or the house was not fine enough for the trees, for\nthey made everything so dark that, from the road, those who cannot see in\nthe night would never know that a house was there.\n\n\u201cThe Son of Ben Ali drove the wagon under the trees, waited until he\ncould hear the clinking of bridles and bits, as Old Grizzly and the\noverseer rode up, and then he slipped around the house and went to the\nback door. I waited until I saw Old Grizzly and the overseer stop under\none of the big oaks, and then I followed.\n\n\u201cThe Son of Ben Ali knocked at the back door, which was soon opened by a\nnegro woman, who asked him what he wanted. He told her, and then the man\ncame to the door.\n\n\u201c\u2018What do you want?\u2019 he asked.\n\n\u201c\u2018I want to see you,\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali. \u2018I want to sell you a bale\nof cotton.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Who is your master?\u2019 the man asked.\n\n\u201c\u2018Mr. Gossett,\u2019 the Son of Ben Ali answered.\n\n\u201c\u2018What is your name?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018They call me Aaron.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You are the boy he bought not long ago.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, sir.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Wait a moment.\u2019 The man went into another room, and when he appeared\nagain he had a shotgun in his hands. My hide is not very thick, and so I\nwent under the steps. The man seemed to be mad. The Son of Ben Ali had\nsome such idea, for he asked:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018What are you going to do with the gun, sir?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Get the truth out of you.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018A dead man will neither lie nor tell the truth,\u2019 said the Son of Ben\nAli. His voice sounded as if he might be laughing, but I was under the\nsteps and couldn\u2019t see.\n\n\u201c\u2018Is the cotton yours?\u2019 the man asked.\n\n\u201c\u2018It is Mr. Gossett\u2019s.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Why do you bring it here to-night?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I had my orders.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, if I had the old scoundrel here!\u2019 cried the man in a rage.\n\n\u201c\u2018If you talk loud, he\u2019ll hear you,\u201d said Aaron.\n\n\u201cThe man understood at once. \u2018Wait!\u2019 he whispered. Then he slipped around\nthe corner of the house. Suddenly I heard the gun go off, and it scared\nme so I couldn\u2019t help but cry out. Some one else yelled, too \u2014 some one\nunder the oaks in front, and then I heard the snorting and stamping of\nhorses. The Son of Ben Ali stole off in the dark before the man returned,\nand I followed him, not knowing what had happened or what might happen.\n\n\u201cBut I soon found out, and it was not as bad as it might have been. The\nshot the man fired had shattered one of the overseer\u2019s arms. He was not\nhurt so badly but he could ride his horse, and he and Old Grizzly hurried\nhome as fast as they could.\n\n\u201cAfter a while the Son of Ben Ali followed, but instead of riding in the\nwagon, he walked by the side of it, and I went ahead to see that the way\nwas clear. The Son of Ben Ali knew that there was trouble in store for\nhim, and he didn\u2019t want Old Grizzly to get hold of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see why,\u201d said Buster John.\n\n\u201cWhy, Old Grizzly didn\u2019t know but the Son of Ben Ali had gone to the\nman\u2019s house and told him about the whole business. There was nobody else\nto tell the man, and if he knew that Old Grizzly and the overseer were\nwaiting in the grove, of course he must have got the news from the Son\nof Ben Ali. But it happened that the overseer was so badly scared about\nhis wounded arm that Old Grizzly had to go home and sit up with him, and\nthis left the way clear for the Son of Ben Ali to take the mule and wagon\nand cotton where they belonged. He drove the wagon under the gin-shelter,\nunharnessed the mule and fed it, and then went to his hut and gathered up\nhis belongings and took to the woods.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen he was a runaway,\u201d said Sweetest Susan. She looked at Aaron with\nnew interest. She had often heard of runaways, but she had never seen\none.\n\n\u201cYes, he was a runaway,\u201d Rambler answered, \u201cand it was a long time before\nhe was anything else. I didn\u2019t bother my head about the Son of Ben Ali\nwhen he went to the woods, for I knew he was just as much at home there\nas I was. I stayed behind to see what would happen, and by staying I soon\nfound out that I had made some trouble for myself.\n\n\u201cIt was very curious, too, when you come to think about it. Old Grizzly\nbehaved with so much meanness toward his negroes, half feeding and\nclothing them, and working them long after dark, that some of them were\nin the woods most of the time. Now, Old Grizzly\u2019s son, George, was very\nfond of fox-hunting, and some of his friends sent me to him when I was\nquite young. My whole family have a great name for running foxes, so it\nis said, and Old Grizzly\u2019s George wanted me to hunt foxes for him along\nwith the other dogs. I didn\u2019t need any teaching in that business, for\nthe minute I smelled a fox, no matter at what hour of the day or night,\nI felt bound to hunt him up and run him down. I had that feeling as far\nback as I can remember.\n\n\u201cOne day, when I was very young, I was playing at hunting with the\nlittle negroes just to pass the time away. One would hold me, and another\nwould go far out of sight and hide. I had to use my nose to find him, and\nI soon came to enjoy the fun. Once Old Grizzly himself saw us playing,\nand he seemed to be very much pleased with the way I followed the trail\nof the little negroes. He took part in it himself, holding me while one\nof the children ran through the pasture and down the branch, and around\nby the gin-screw back to the house. He did this many times, and seemed to\nbe very much pleased with me. After a while, when I grew older, he made\nsome of the large negroes run, but I never failed to find and bay them.\nI soon found out why Old Grizzly was so well pleased. One morning, one\nof the negroes was missing. He had run away some time during the night,\nhaving been promised a strapping for the next morning. Old Grizzly called\nme, and we went to the negro\u2019s hut, where I was made to smell of his\nblanket and such of his belongings as he had failed to take with him.\nI knew at once what Old Grizzly wanted me to do, and I was more than\nwilling to do it, for the negro happened to be one that had given me\nmore kicks than scraps. I settled down to business at once. I ran for the\nhut, and circled around it. The scent was as plain to me as a track in\nthe mud is to you. I followed it with no trouble at all, and Old Grizzly,\nhaving his horse ready, went along with me, keeping as close to me as he\ncould. In an hour we had overtaken the negro, and Old Grizzly carried him\nback, making him walk before the horse all the way home.\n\n[Illustration: OLD GRIZZLY BROUGHT HIM BACK]\n\n\u201cAfter that I had to look out for myself. The negroes treated me worse\nthan ever. They were ready to kill me at any time, and I had to keep out\nof their way. This made it worse for the negroes. None of them could\nescape Old Grizzly by going to the woods. I had help, too, for some of\nthe other hounds, seeing me made much of by the master and the overseer,\njoined me in my expeditions, and in a short while Old Grizzly had a pack\nof \u2018nigger dogs,\u2019 as he called us, that seemed to fill him with pride.\n\n\u201cThis was going on when the Son of Ben Ali came\u2014when he came and touched\nme and gave me the sign. And then I knew more than I had known before.\nAfter he came he was the first to go into the woods, as I have told you,\nand the next morning my trouble began.\n\n\u201cOld Grizzly was very mad when, at daylight, he sent for the Son of\nBen Ali and found him gone. I slept under the house in a corner of\nthe chimney stack, and I heard Old Grizzly when he came in from the\noverseer\u2019s house. He bawled at the cook for not having breakfast ready,\nthough it was not time, and then he came out, ripping and rearing, and\nsent the house-boy for the Son of Ben Ali. But the Son of Ben Ali was not\nto be found. This made matters worse. Old Grizzly called up my companions\nand myself, gave us a few bites of stale bread, had his horse saddled,\nand then carried us to the hut where the Son of Ben Ali had lived.\n\n\u201cI knew then what was going to happen. I ought to have known before, but\nit had never occurred to me. We were to run the Son of Ben Ali down so\nthat Old Grizzly could capture him. This didn\u2019t suit me at all, but I had\nto go. There was no way to get out of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I don\u2019t see why!\u201d cried Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cMe, nuther,\u201d Drusilla chimed in.\n\n\u201cIt is simple enough,\u201d said Rambler, placing himself in a more\ncomfortable position\u2014he had been sitting on his haunches. \u201cThe other dogs\nwould have gone whether I went or not. So I pretended I was very glad to\ngo. I circled around the house, and ran over the scent twice so as to see\nwhat the other dogs would do. They ran over it, too, but I knew that one\nof them had a faint hint of it. He went back to it, and then\u201d\u2014\n\nHere a spark from the pine knot that made a light in the cabin flew out\nnear Rambler\u2019s head, and suddenly burst into a shower of smaller sparks.\nRambler dodged and jumped out of the way so quickly that the children\nlaughed.\n\n\u201cYou may think it is funny,\u201d said Rambler, \u201cand it may be, but I\u2019ll not\nlaugh until I see you with a hot spark in your ear.\u201d\n\nHe settled himself again and resumed his story, but this time he kept one\neye on the pine knot.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nA RUN THROUGH THE WOODS.\n\n\n\u201cAs I was saying,\u201d Rambler went on, \u201cthe scent was as plain as the nose\non your face, and, although I passed it over, one of the other dogs had\na hint of it and whimpered over it. This dog afterwards made a very good\ntrack dog. He had what they call a cold nose, and he was hard headed\nenough to hang on. But at that time he was young and foolish, and new to\nthe business. He had no mind of his own. So I went back to the trail,\npicked up the scent and went along with it slowly, as if it were a\ntedious job to unravel it.\n\n\u201cWhat I wanted to do was to follow it until it crossed some other trail,\nand then pick up the new one and carry Old Grizzly away from the Son of\nBen Ali. But it was impossible. No one had passed, and so we ran on after\nthe Son of Ben Ali.\n\n[Illustration: I WAS CLOSE TO THE RABBIT]\n\n\u201cThe next best thing to finding some other track, I thought, was to get\nout of sight of Old Grizzly. I let myself out a little, the other dogs\ndid the same, and in a few moments we had left Old Grizzly behind. Right\nthen I did something I have never done before, and that was to try to\ncatch a rabbit, when I was hunting a different kind of game. While we\nwere going along, full tilt, a big fat rabbit jumped up right under my\nnose. I dashed after it as hard as I could go, and the other dogs came\ntumbling after. I was so close to the rabbit that it turned before going\ninto the swamp. I made it turn again, and it ran into the mouth of one\nof my companions. The others ran up, and they had quite a fight over the\nrabbit, tearing it to pieces in short order. I was hungry myself, and\nnothing would have pleased me better than to rush in and take the rabbit\naway from my companions. But I didn\u2019t have time.\n\n\u201cWhile the others were snapping and snarling I slipped into the swamp,\nran across it and made a circle of a mile or more, and tried to pick up\nthe scent again where I thought it ought to be. But it was not there. I\nknew then that the Son of Ben Ali had wandered about, not knowing or\ncaring where he went so long as he kept out of the way of Old Grizzly.\nI made another circle, and this time I picked up the scent again. I had\nsaid to myself when I was hunting for it that I would remain silent when\nI found it, but I came upon it so suddenly and unexpectedly, and it\nwas so warm and fresh, that I cried out at the top of my voice. It was\nfoolish, but such is habit. My companions heard it, and they came to me\nwithout delay. I knew they were coming, and the best I could do was to\ndiscover quickly which way the scent led, and then take the back track,\ntrusting to the dullness of my companions to mislead them. By the time\nthey came up I was tripping along toward the cold end of the trail as\nnoisily as if the Son of Ben Ali were in plain view. The others, not to\nbe outdone, joined in the cry, and we went bolting along the back track.\nIn this way we came up with Old Grizzly, who seemed to be much astonished\nto see us running headlong in the way he had just come.\n\n\u201cThe scent grew fainter and fainter, and everything would have gone well\nbut for one of my companions, the one that discovered the scent at the\nbeginning of the hunt. When the scent grew colder, he began to circle\naround for himself, and about a half a mile away he picked it up with\nsuch a howl and a flourish that I ran up to him. It was so warm that I\nlooked up, expecting to see the Son of Ben Ali trotting along a quarter\nof a mile away. But it was not so. He was not in sight.\n\n\u201cI joined in and took the lead, saying to myself that when we got into\nthe woods I\u2019d show my spotted companion a new wrinkle in trailing. When\nwe came to the bushes I dropped back a little, seized my companion by the\nneck and dragged him around and shook him up in a way that surprised him\nand the others.\n\n\u201c\u2018What\u2019s that for?\u2019 he cried. \u2018You\u2019re too spotted,\u2019 I replied. This\nquieted them down, but it was too late to carry out my new plans. The\nscent had been growing warmer and warmer, and I took it up again as a\nmatter of duty, and the others followed in a more sober manner. We went\nthrough the woods at a pretty good pace, and I expected to see the Son of\nBen Ali limping along ahead of us, ready to drop, for we had now come\nseveral miles in doubling and twisting and turning.\n\n\u201cBut instead of seeing the Son of Ben Ali, we saw something that was more\nsurprising. We came upon a young man and a young lady. The young man had\nbeen hunting, for he had a gun, and the young lady had been gathering\nwild flowers, for a negro girl with her had a basketful.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know! I know!\u201d cried Drusilla. \u201cDat nigger \u2019oman wuz my mammy. I been\nhear \u2019er tell dat many an\u2019 many\u2019s de time. Yes, suh! dat wuz my mammy!\nAn\u2019 dat ain\u2019t all. Dat ar white man an\u2019 dat ar white \u2019oman wuz yo\u2019 all\u2019s\npa an\u2019 ma.\u201d\n\nBuster John and Sweetest Susan looked at Aaron for confirmation or denial.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s so,\u201d Aaron said.\n\n\u201cMammy say dey wuz courtin\u2019,\u201d explained Drusilla.\n\n[Illustration: MAMMY SAY DEY WUZ COURTIN\u2019]\n\nBuster John seemed to be somewhat embarrassed at this information, but\nSweetest Susan appeared to relish it. On the other hand, Rambler went to\nAaron and said:\u2014\n\n\u201cSon of Ben Ali, it would please me much if you would scrape your shoe\njust behind my shoulders. A colony of fleas has settled there, because\nthey know I can reach them neither with my teeth nor with my hind feet.\u201d\n\nAaron performed this service willingly, and the scraping seemed to tickle\nRambler so that he raised one of his hind feet from the ground, and made\nbelieve to be scratching himself, but his foot was simply moving up and\ndown in the air. At this the children laughed very heartily.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Rambler, \u201cwhen we ran up on the young man and the young\nlady there was a great flurry. The negro girl screamed, and the young\nlady rushed into the arms of the young man for protection. My companions\nand I ran around and circled, but all trace of the Son of Ben Ali had\ndisappeared.\n\n\u201cI found the warm scent of a horse, but there was no horse to be seen.\nI thought this very strange, so I followed it a few hundred yards, but\nsaid nothing to my companions about it. The scent led out of the woods,\nthrough a field in which the brown sedge grew high, and, in going through\nthis, I caught the scent of the Son of Ben Ali. It was high on the sedge,\nand I knew by this that the horse had the Son of Ben Ali for a rider.\nBut I said nothing to my companions. I turned away from the horse\u2019s\ntrail, and continued to go in a circle, until, coming to the point where\nthe young man had entered the woods, I made some fuss over it, and thus\ndrew my companions away from the sedge field. They came to me, but I told\nthem it was a mistake, and in this way cooled them off, so that they were\nno longer as keen to find the trail of the Son of Ben Ali as they had\nbeen.\n\n\u201cI have told pretty much all I know about it,\u201d continued Rambler, dodging\nanother spark. \u201cIt happened that the young man who was out there in the\nwoods with the young lady was the man to whom Old Grizzly had sent the\nSon of Ben Ali with the bale of cotton.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas it really papa and mamma?\u201d asked Buster John, turning to Aaron.\n\nAaron laughed and nodded his head.\n\n\u201cWell, they\u2019ve never told me anything about it,\u201d said Sweetest Susan, in\nan injured tone.\n\n\u201cNor me either,\u201d remarked Buster John.\n\n\u201cHuh!\u201d exclaimed Drusilla, \u201cfolks don\u2019t hafter tell dey chilluns all dey\nknow.\u201d\n\nJust then a loud, but mellow voice outside cried out: \u201cDrusilla! You\nDrusilla! You better answer me gal! I boun\u2019 I\u2019ll make you talk when I git\nholt er you!\u201d\n\nDrusilla put her head outside the door and yelled out: \u201cMa\u2019am!\u201d\n\n\u201cCome \u2019ere dis minnit, madam! Whar is you?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt Unk A\u2019on\u2019s house, mammy!\u201d\n\n\u201cTell her, Uncle Aaron says he wants to see her,\u201d said Buster John. This\nDrusilla did, and presently Drusilla\u2019s mother was heard coming along the\npath, breathing dire vengeance against Drusilla, and wondering what in\nthe world Aaron wanted.\n\n\u201cIs that you, Jemimy?\u201d asked Aaron. \u201cCome in\u2014don\u2019t be scared.\u201d\n\nJemimy came in laughing, and her smile was in queer contrast to the\nthreats she had just made against her daughter.\n\n\u201cWhat you-all doin\u2019 here?\u201d she said, seeing the white children. \u201cUnk\nAaron is sho got mo\u2019 time fer ter fool wid you dan what I got. An\u2019 dar\u2019s\ndat ol\u2019 dog settin\u2019 up dar big ez anybody. What you want, honey?\u201d turning\nto Buster John. \u201cTalk quick. I ain\u2019t got no time ter th\u2019ow way. I got\nter go up yonder,\u201d indicating the big house, \u201cand set my mornin\u2019s bread\nter rise.\u201d Then she turned to Aaron, \u201cDid you call me sho\u2019 nuff, er is\ndeze yer chillun des runnin\u2019 on wid der foolishness?\u201d\n\nAaron nodded his head and brought out a stool for himself, giving Jemimy\nthe chair in which he had been sitting.\n\n\u201cI \u2019clar\u2019. I ain\u2019t got no time fer ter be settin\u2019 down here gwine on wid\ndeze chillun. Time yo\u2019 Unk A\u2019on know much \u2019bout you ez what I does he\nwon\u2019t be settin\u2019 down here worryin\u2019 \u2019long wid you.\u201d\n\nJemimy said this, laughing in an embarrassed way. She stood in awe of\nAaron, but she sat down. \u201cWhat you grinnin\u2019 at, I like ter know?\u201d she\ncried, turning suddenly on Drusilla, to hide her own confusion. \u201cWhar yo\u2019\nmanners?\u201d\n\nAaron shook his head and Drusilla made no reply.\n\n\u201cAunt Mimy,\u201d said Buster John, \u201cwe want you to tell us about the time you\nwent into the woods with mamma\u2014when Uncle Aaron was a runaway, and when\nMr. Gossett was running him with dogs.\u201d\n\nJemimy laughed, and then she looked serious. She looked first at the\nchildren and then at Aaron. At last, her eye fell on Rambler, who had\ncrossed the hearth and was sitting between Aaron and the chimney-jamb.\n\n\u201cEf I ain\u2019t mighty much mistaken,\u201d said Jemimy, \u201cdat ar very dog dar is\none er de dogs what wuz runnin\u2019 atter you.\u201d Aaron nodded his head. \u201cHe\ngittin\u2019 ol\u2019, mon. Why, dat ar dog ain\u2019t fur frum twenty year ol\u2019.\u201d Jemimy\npaused, but nobody said anything. Finally she went on:\n\n\u201cI never is ter fergit dat day, ef I wuz ter live ter be older dan ol\u2019\nman Methusalem. I speck I wuz \u2019bout fourteen year ol\u2019, an\u2019 Miss Rachel,\nshe wuz \u2019bout eighteen or nineteen\u2014some\u2019rs \u2019long in dar. Soon one mornin\u2019\nshe sont me out ter tell ol\u2019 Unk Aberham fer ter saddle de pacin\u2019 filly.\nShe low she gwineter go out in de woods atter some wil\u2019 flowers, an\u2019 she\nsays she want me ter go \u2019long wid \u2019er. So dey done saddle de filly, en\nput Miss Rachel on \u2019er, an\u2019 den Miss Rachel, she rid up side de fence\nan\u2019 tuck me on behine \u2019er, bein\u2019s ez de filly done been trained to tote\ndouble. I had er basket on my arm, an\u2019 dat ar basket sholy did worry dat\nhoss. She danced an\u2019 she pranced, an\u2019 twuz e\u2019en\u2019bout all I could do ter\nset up dar, her back wuz so slick.\n\n\u201cBut bimeby de filly done git usen ter de basket, an\u2019 atter dat I ax\nMiss Rachel whar she gwine. She say she gwine atter some wil\u2019 flowers.\nI ax her wharbouts. I \u2019low\u2019d dey wuz plenty right whar we wuz at. She\nup \u2019n say dey want \u2019nuff ter suit her. We rid on an\u2019 rid on, an\u2019 bimeby\nI say, \u2018Miss Rache, you know you ain\u2019t gwine atter no flowers.\u2019 She ax\nme wharbouts she gwine den. I say, \u2018You er gwine over yon\u2019er in de big\nwoods.\u2019 She ax what she gwine over dar for. I say\u201d\u2014\n\nHere Jemimy straightened herself up and looked at Aaron curiously.\n\n\u201cI \u2019clar ter gracious, I oughtn\u2019t ter be tellin\u2019 dis \u2019fo\u2019 deze yer\nchillun,\u201d she said.\n\nAaron made no reply one way or another, but seemed to be surprised, and\nthe children protested loudly.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll run right straight an\u2019 tell Miss Rachel!\u201d exclaimed Jemimy, as\nindignantly as if the children had already told their mother.\n\n\u201cWhy, mamma knows it already\u2014if it\u2019s true,\u201d said Buster John scornfully.\n\n\u201cShe\u2019d run me off\u2019n de place ef she know\u2019d I wuz runnin\u2019 on \u2019bout ol\u2019\ntimes right here \u2019fo\u2019 you all. La! niggers is fools, mo\u2019 speshually when\ndey er wimmen folks.\u201d\n\n\u201cI reckon she\u2019s about right,\u201d said Rambler, yawning and stretching\nhimself.\n\n\u201cWhat kinder cu\u2019us fuss is dat dog makin\u2019?\u201d asked Jemimy, seeing Aaron\nand the children laughing. \u201cI ain\u2019t never see no dog make fuss like dat.\nYou all better watch dat dog. He so ol\u2019, dey ain\u2019t no tellin\u2019 when he\u2019ll\ngo ravin\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou told mamma she was going to the big woods,\u201d said Buster John, by way\nof a reminder.\n\n\u201cShe wa\u2019n\u2019t yo\u2019 ma den!\u201d remarked Jemimy. \u201cI say, \u2018You ain\u2019t gwine atter\nno flowers. You er gwine over yon\u2019er in de big woods.\u2019 She ax me what she\ngwine over dar fer. I say, \u2018You er gwine dar kaze you speck you\u2019ll strike\nup wid dat ar Dave Henry Wyche.\u2019 Man, suh! She blush up twel it look like\nyou kin see plum thoo her ears, dey got so red. Atter while she ax me who\ntol\u2019 me dat, an\u2019 I say, \u2018How come my eyeballs ain\u2019t big nuff fer me ter\ntell myse\u2019f?\u2019\n\n\u201cWe rid \u2019long, an\u2019 rid \u2019long, an\u2019 den bimeby she low dat Mr. Wyche des\nez good ez anybody else, ef he ain\u2019t got ez much prop\u2019ty ez some er de\nres\u2019. I say, \u2018I ain\u2019t\u2019 sputin\u2019 dat, but how come you call \u2019im Mr. Wyche\nnow, when you been callin\u2019 \u2019im Dave Henry yever since he toted yo\u2019 school\nbucket when you wa\u2019n\u2019t knee-high to a goslin\u2019?\u2019 Den she say it\u2019s kaze dey\ndone got older dan what dey useter wuz.\n\n\u201cWe rid on, an\u2019 rid on, an\u2019 bimeby we come ter whar de big poplar grows\ndar in de woods. Right dar she w\u2019o\u2019d de filly, an\u2019 tol\u2019 me ter jump down,\nkaze right dar whar she gwine ter git some wil\u2019 flowers. I hilt de hoss,\nI did, an\u2019 she lipt down same ez a bird off\u2019n de bush, an\u2019 den she tuck\nde basket an\u2019 went sa\u2019nterin\u2019 \u2019roun\u2019.\n\n\u201cI \u2019low, \u2018Ef you gwine ter git any flowers right roun\u2019 here, you\u2019ll\nhafter dig in de groun\u2019 atter \u2019em,\u2019 an\u2019 she say I better be \u2019tendin\u2019 ter\nmy business, an\u2019 hol\u2019 dat ar filly so she won\u2019t break loose an\u2019 run away.\nWell, dat sorter brung me \u2019roun\u2019, kaze I skeerd er hosses anyhow, but I\nhilt on ter de bridle reins, an\u2019 I kep\u2019 one eye on Miss Rachel, an\u2019 de\nudder one on de filly. Miss Rachel, she went on thoo\u2019 de woods, sorter\nhummin\u2019 one er dem ar ol\u2019 time chunes, an\u2019 I foller\u2019d \u2019long atter de\nbes\u2019 way I could, kaze I skeer\u2019d dat ar filly gwine ter walk up behine me\nan\u2019 tromple me. Bimeby, I see somebody gwine \u2019long thoo de woods wid a\ngun. I look right good, an\u2019 den I know\u2019d \u2019twuz Marse Dave Henry Wyche.\n\n\u201cWell suh! you dunner how quare folks is. Miss Rachel she seed \u2019im \u2019mos\u2019\ntime I did, an\u2019 den she stopped and fetched a little squall, des like\nshe didn\u2019t know all de time he wuz gwine ter be dar, an\u2019 den Marse Dave\nHenry, he stopped like he wuz \u2019stonished, an\u2019 tuck off his hat like he\nain\u2019t seed Miss Rachel in a mont\u2019 er Sundays. Den dey shuck han\u2019s an\u2019\nstood dar an\u2019 talked an\u2019 talked. I dunner what dey say, but one time\nMarse Dave Henry would laugh, an\u2019 look down at his foots, an\u2019 den Miss\nRachel, she\u2019d snicker an\u2019 blush. Dey wuz gwine on dat way when I feel de\nfilly pullin\u2019 on de reins, an\u2019 den when I look at \u2019er, she had her ears\nsot forrerd, like she wuz lis\u2019nin\u2019 at sump\u2019n. Den I hear houn\u2019s a-bayin\u2019,\nan\u2019 des \u2019bout dat time I hear de bushes shakin\u2019, an\u2019 somebody come\nchargin\u2019 \u2019long hard ez he kin come.\n\n\u201cDis make de filly jerk back and r\u2019ar, but I swung on ter de bridle rein,\nan\u2019 holler w\u2019oa, an\u2019 den, bimeby, she w\u2019oad. Well, suh, dat ar somebody\nchargin\u2019 \u2019long wuz yo\u2019 Unk A\u2019on dar. De dogs was a-gainin\u2019 on \u2019im eve\u2019y\njump. He seed Miss Rachel an\u2019 Marse Dave Henry stan\u2019in\u2019 dar, an\u2019 he went\nup ter whar dey wuz, an\u2019 say: \u2018You see what I git fer tellin\u2019 you las\u2019\nnight.\u2019 Marse Dave Henry \u2019low, \u2018I wish ter God I could help you!\u2019 Miss\nRachel riz on her tiptoes, an\u2019 stretch out her han\u2019 an\u2019 say, \u2018Take dat\nfilly dar an\u2019 ride her home fer me!\u2019 She looked lots bigger dan what\nMarse Dave Henry did. I tell you now, when you git de Abercrombie blood\nstirred up you better go off som\u2019rs twel it cool off.\n\n\u201cWell, Unk A\u2019on dar, he fetched a jump er two an\u2019 jerked de reins out\u2019n\nmy han\u2019, an\u2019 lipt on de filly\u2019s back\u2014behine de side-saddle, now, mind\nyou\u2014an\u2019 hit her wid his heels a time er two, an\u2019 wuz done gone \u2019fo\u2019 I\ncould git up offin\u2019 de groun\u2019 whar I fell at. Den Marse Dave Henry flung\nhis gun \u2019cross his lef\u2019 arm an\u2019 put some fresh caps on it, an\u2019 dar he\nhilt it.\n\n\u201cBimeby, here come de dogs. Dey sailed \u2019roun\u2019, an\u2019 sailed \u2019roun\u2019, but\ndey couldn\u2019t go no fudder. Den here come dat ol\u2019 Mr. Gossett. I hope\nhe\u2019ll go ter heaven, but I never shill b\u2019lieve it twel I see \u2019im dar. He\ncome a-follerin\u2019 long atter de dogs. He rid up an\u2019 tuck off his hat when\nhe see Miss Rachel. But na\u2019er one un um do like dey know he\u2019s a-livin\u2019.\nMiss Rachel she look at Marse Dave Henry, an\u2019 Marse Dave Henry, he look\nright straight at ol\u2019 Mr. Gossett. He sot dar on his hoss an\u2019 look at\num, an\u2019 thump de pummel er his saddle like he studyin\u2019 \u2019bout sump\u2019n \u2019way\noff yon\u2019er\u2014an\u2019 den he spied me. He lif\u2019 his hat agin, like he tellin\u2019 um\ngood-by, an\u2019 den he rid up by me. He say, \u2018Gal, is you seed any nigger\nman runnin\u2019 \u2019long by here?\u2019 I look at Miss Rachel, an\u2019 she drapt her\neyeleds. I say, \u2018Yasser.\u2019 He say, \u2018Which away wuz he gwine?\u2019 I look at\nMiss Rachel, an\u2019 she thow her eyes over ter de lef\u2019, an\u2019 I pint dat way\nan\u2019 \u2019low, \u2018Cross yon\u2019er.\u2019 He sot dar, dat ar white man did, an\u2019 look at\nme n\u2019 thump de pummel er his saddle, en den he broke out in a big laugh\nan\u2019 rid on. I tell you now, ol\u2019 Nick wa\u2019n\u2019t no sharper dan dat ar white\nman.\n\n\u201cMarse Dave Henry made a motion like he wuz gwine ter foller on atter\nol\u2019 Mr. Gossett, but Miss Rachel, she laid her han\u2019 on his arm, an\u2019 den\nwe all walked back home. De las\u2019 word I say ter Miss Rachel\u2014an\u2019 she\u2019ll\ntell you so herse\u2019f\u2014wuz, \u2018I tol\u2019 you you wa\u2019n\u2019t huntin\u2019 no flowers;\u2019 an\u2019\nshe \u2019low, \u2018How kin anybody hunt flowers when de woods is full er runaway\nniggers an\u2019 dogs?\u2019 an\u2019 I say, \u2018You ain\u2019t call de name er all what de\nwoods wuz full uv;\u2019 an\u2019 she \u2019low ef I don\u2019t hush up, she\u2019ll be mad wid me\nall de balance er de week, an\u2019 den I hushed up.\u201d\n\nJemimy paused, looked all around, and then turned to the children:\u2014\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you dast ter tell yo\u2019 ma dat I been gwine on wid all dish yer ol\u2019\ntime foolishness, kaze ef you do, she\u2019ll take me out\u2019n de kitchen an\u2019\nsen\u2019 me ter de cotton patch, an\u2019 I\u2019m doin\u2019 mighty well whar I is.\u201d\n\nThen, after telling Drusilla not to be sitting up all night, she went\nout.\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nRAMBLER, THE TRACK DOG, CONCLUDES HIS STORY.\n\n\n\u201cWhere did you go when you rode the filly off?\u201d Buster John asked Aaron.\n\n\u201cHe came right here,\u201d said Rambler; \u201cI know it, because when old Grizzly\nwhistled to me and my companions and started home, I went back, picked up\nthe scent of the filly, and followed it here. At the lot, the Son of Ben\nAli took the saddle off, hung it under the shed, and then came to this\nhouse.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is so,\u201d remarked Aaron; \u201can old man by the name of Abe lived here.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I remember old Uncle Abe,\u201d said Buster John. \u201cHe used to sit in the\nsun and make horse collars and baskets, and tell tales.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was a great hand for that,\u201d assented Aaron.\n\n\u201cI followed him here,\u201d continued Rambler, \u201cbut found the door shut. I\nscratched at it and whined. The man named Abe opened it, and I came in,\nbut I didn\u2019t see anything of the Son of Ben Ali. But I knew he was in\nhere. My nose told me so. I noticed some planks across the rafters\u2014they\nare there yet, as you can see\u2014and I looked up and whined. The man named\nAbe looked around until he found his axe. \u2018So you are Gossett\u2019s nigger\ndog,\u2019 he said. \u2018Well, you\u2019ll never hunt any more niggers for him.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What is that?\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali from the loft.\n\n\u201c\u2018Gossett\u2019s nigger dog,\u2019 said the man named Abe. \u2018He has followed you\nhere. What shall I do with him?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Give him something to eat,\u2019 answered the Son of Ben Ali, and this made\nme glad, for I had had a long, a hot, and a hard chase.\n\n\u201c\u2018What shall I do then?\u2019 asked the man named Abe.\n\n\u201c\u2018Give him a drink of clean water,\u2019 replied the Son of Ben Ali.\n\n\u201c\u2018What then?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Then let him alone.\u2019\n\n[Illustration: I LOOKED UP AND WHINED]\n\n\u201cNow, I was very glad of that,\u201d continued Rambler, licking his chops, and\nkeeping one eye on the sputtering pine knot that gave out a flickering\nlight, \u201cfor I wanted bread, and I wanted water, and I wanted to lie down\nand rest somewhere, where I wouldn\u2019t have to fight the flies.\n\n\u201cSo the man named Abe went into his cupboard\u2014that same cupboard there\u2014and\ngave me a big chunk of ash cake, and placed a pan of water close by. Then\nhe sat in the door and began to weave his baskets. I ate all he gave me,\ndrank as much water as I wanted, and crept under a low bedstead that\nstood in the corner yonder.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know how long I slept, but when I woke I knew it was night, for\nI heard the man named Abe frying his bacon, and the smell of it crept\nunder the bed where I was, and made me as hungry as I had been before I\nate. After a while I heard voices. The Son of Ben Ali was asking the man\nnamed Abe if he would have to stay in the loft on the planks all night.\nThe man named Abe said no, that he had a snug place for the Son of Ben\nAli.\n\n\u201cNow, at that time there was a sort of closet or something near where the\nchimney juts out here. The man named Abe had nailed some planks across\nfrom the wall to the edge of the chimney, and in between the wall and the\nplanks there was room enough for a man to stand up, or to lie down, if he\nlay on his side.\n\n\u201cAfter a while, when everything was quiet, the Son of Ben Ali clambered\ndown the wall, but when he touched the floor he stumbled and fell over,\ngroaning. The man named Abe was scared nearly to death, but it was\nnothing. I had been running hard, and I was stiff and sore. The Son of\nBen Ali had been running hard, and he was stiff and sore. Besides, he\nhad been lying on the planks in the loft in a cramped position, not\ndaring to move, for fear he would be discovered, and this made the matter\nworse. But it was nothing, after all. The Son of Ben Ali raised himself,\nlaughing, and limped into the closet.\n\n\u201cBut he didn\u2019t stay there long. He came out to stretch himself. This made\nthe man named Abe uneasy, and then he became angry. But the Son of Ben\nAli simply laughed at him. This made him still angrier, and he threatened\nto go to the white folk\u2019s house\u2014that\u2019s what he called it\u2014and tell them\nthat a runaway negro had taken possession of his cabin. The man named\nAbe started out. I don\u2019t know whether he would have gone if he had been\nlet alone, but he was not let alone. The Son of Ben Ali seized him by the\nshoulders and jammed him down on his stool, and then stood over him. The\nman named Abe would have cried out, but the Son of Ben Ali placed his\nhand softly on the man\u2019s mouth and spoke one word\u2014\u2018Listen!\u2019\u2014but that was\nenough.\n\n\u201cThe man named Abe quieted down at once. But he said he would be killed\nif the white people caught him hiding a runaway. At this, the Son of Ben\nAli called me to him and said:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Go out and stand by the door there. When you hear any one coming, say\nso.\u2019\n\n\u201cI limped out from under the bed the best I could, for I was stiff, and\nscratched at the door and asked to be let out. The man named Abe opened\nthe door, and watched to see what I would do. I only went a few steps\naway from the door, and then sat down, turning my head in all directions\nand listening. When the man named Abe shut the door again, I went and sat\non the steps. I heard the man ask the Son of Ben Ali if he was a witch,\nand the reply he got was that the Son of Ben Ali was witch enough not to\nbe caught any more. Then the man named Abe wanted to know if the Son of\nBen Ali was angry with him, and the answer he got was that the Son of Ben\nAli was the friend of those who were his friends and was never angry with\nthem.\n\n\u201cWell, they had their supper in there, for I could hear them chewing,\nand presently the man named Abe came to the door and gave me mine, the\nbiggest half of a warm hoe-cake, and I don\u2019t know that plain bread ever\ntasted better than it did right then.\n\n\u201cNot long after that I heard some one laughing and talking in the\ndirection of the big house up yonder, and the sounds seemed to get\nnearer. I gave the warning, and I soon heard the Son of Ben Ali go into\nthe closet. The voices came nearer, and I soon knew one for the Young\nMistress, whom I had heard talking in the woods that very morning. The\nother seemed to be the voice of a child, but I heard thump\u2014thump\u2014thump\u2014as\nof some one walking with a heavy cane. So I said to myself the Master is\nwith them. But, no; it was the little boy, who walked with the crutches,\nas I soon saw. He was pleading with his sister to come to the house of\nthe man named Abe and get him to tell a tale, such as he used to tell her\nwhen she was a little girl. She said she was too large for that, but the\nLittle Master declared that he was small enough for both of them. And so\nthey came to the door.\n\n\u201cThe Young Mistress called out \u2018Uncle Abe!\u2019 and the man named Abe opened\nthe door. He looked out cautiously, and with a frown on his face, as I\ncould see; but when he found who it was he danced around, and opened the\ndoor as nimbly as if he had been a young man. I try to be polite myself,\nand sometimes I shake my tail pretty hard, but the man named Abe shook\nhis whole body, he was so polite, and bowed nearly to the floor. And it\nwasn\u2019t put on, neither, as I found out afterward, for every one on the\nplace loved the Young Mistress and Little Master. These two went in, and\nI followed them. I wanted to see what would happen.\n\n\u201cAfter a while, in bustling around, one of them stepped on my foot. Of\ncourse this hurt my feelings, and I cried out.\n\n\u201c\u2018Poor doggie!\u2019 said the Little Master. \u2018Come here!\u2019 He looked at me\nclosely, and exclaimed:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, this is one of the Gossett track dogs! What is he doing here?\u2019\n\n\u201cBut the man named Abe said he didn\u2019t know. Then the Young Mistress\nwondered if I was one of the dogs that had been running after a negro in\nthe woods that morning, and she asked the man named Abe, looking at him\nhard, if he had seen a strange negro bring the filly home. But the man\nnamed Abe shook his head and fumbled with the splits which he wove into\nbaskets.\n\n\u201cThe Little Master said he had come to hear a story, one of those old\nstories about Brother Fox and Brother Rabbit. I thought to myself that\nif all the rabbits I had caught could talk, they would have more stories\nto tell than the Little Master had time to listen to. The man named Abe\nshuffled around and coughed and excused himself, but it was no use. I\nknew he wanted the Young Mistress and the Little Master to go away. He\nwas uneasy about the Son of Ben Ali\u2014afraid that they might discover the\nrunaway. But nothing would satisfy the Little Master but a story, and\nso the man named Abe sat down and told him one. And then nothing would\nsatisfy him but another story, and so they went on, until finally I fell\nasleep by the hearth. I could hear the story-telling going on in my\ndreams, and I remember I said to myself that if the man named Abe, or any\nother man, was as willing to work as he was to talk, a good many things\nwould be different.\n\n\u201cWhile I was lying there dozing, I heard the Son of Ben Ali begin to\nsnore. The Little Master heard it too, for he asked what the noise was.\nThe man named Abe said it was the dog\u2014meaning me\u2014and then he went on with\nhis story, moving his feet about on the floor and talking loud. I dozed\noff again, and was getting ready to go to sleep sure enough, for I was\ntired, when suddenly I heard a noise outside, as of two or three persons\ncreeping around the cabin. I jumped up and ran to the door and smelt\nunder it. The scent that came under the door was the scent of strange\npersons, and of white people at that. Just as I was about to cry out my\ndiscovery I got a whiff of another scent. I knew at once that George\nGossett was with the strange persons, and that they were patroling the\nsettlement searching for the Son of Ben Ali.\n\n\u201cI gave one whine, and ran under the bed, for I didn\u2019t want young Grizzly\nto see me there.\n\n\u201c\u2018What is the matter with the dog?\u2019 asked the Young Mistress, in some\nalarm.\n\n\u201c\u2018Sh-h!\u2019 said the man named Abe, softly.\n\n\u201cThen some one struck the door with a cane, following it with a loud\ndemand:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Hello, here! Open this door!\u2019\n\n\u201cPeeping from under the bed, I watched to see what would happen. The man\nnamed Abe looked hard at the Young Mistress. She, rising, swung the chair\nbehind her, leaning on it with her left hand. She lifted her right arm\nand waved it toward the door.\n\n\u201c\u2018Open it!\u2019 she said.\n\n\u201cThe man named Abe did as he was bid. He threw it open suddenly and stood\nbehind it. Young Grizzly must have been leaning heavily against it, for\nhe stumbled into the room and came near falling.\n\n\u201c\u2018What are you trying to do? Why you\u2019\u2014Then, looking up, he caught\nsight of the Young Mistress standing there with anger in her face.\nYoung Grizzly took off his hat and bowed low. There were pieces of\nsticking-plaster on his forehead and cheek bones. He caught his breath\nand stammered: \u2018I beg your pardon, ma\u2019am, I\u2019\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Uncle Abe,\u2019 said the Young Mistress, \u2018go to the house and tell father\nthat Mr. Gossett\u2014Mr. George Gossett\u2014has called to see him on business,\nbut has missed his way.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Not at all, Miss Rachel! Not at all! I beg ten thousand pardons! I was\nhunting a runaway nigger in the settlement, and I thought perhaps\u2014maybe\u2014I\nmight find him here. A runaway nigger you know, Miss Rachel, is just as\napt to be in one place as another.\u2019 In this way spoke young Grizzly, as\nhe backed out at the door, still bowing.\n\n\u201c\u2018Then, Uncle Abe, tell father that Mr. George Gossett believes one of\nhis runaways is hid on his place, and wants to find him.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018By no means, Miss Rachel\u2014by no means! Not for the world. You know me\ntoo well not to know that I never intended any disrespect to you. Not the\nleast bit in the world.\u2019 So said young Grizzly.\n\n\u201c\u2018Who are your companions, sir?\u2019 asked the Young Mistress, going toward\nthe door.\n\n\u201c\u2018Just some of the neighbor boys, ma\u2019am. I asked them to come with me.\nNone of us meant the least harm, and certainly no disrespect to you.\u2019\nThus spoke young Grizzly.\n\n\u201cBy this time his companions had taken to their heels, and young Grizzly\nwas quick to follow their example as soon as he got out of reach of the\nYoung Mistress\u2019s eyes. So said the man named Abe, and he was standing\nwhere he could see, having pretended to go after the White-haired Master.\nNever have I seen a white man more frightened than young Grizzly was.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat was he afraid of?\u201d asked Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cBuckshot,\u201d replied Aaron.\n\nRambler yawned and then continued:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe Little Master was even angrier than the Young Mistress, but he had\nsaid nothing. When the door was shut he struck the floor with his crutch\nand cried out:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh, I hope it is Aaron they are after, and I hope they will never get\nhim.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Aaron is his name,\u2019 said the man named Abe.\n\n[Illustration: YOUNG GRIZZLY BOWED LOW]\n\n\u201c\u2018He rode my filly home to-day,\u2019 the Young Mistress said.\n\n\u201c\u2018Did he? Did he? I\u2019ll kiss you, sis, for that!\u2019 So spoke the Little\nMaster, and he was as good as his word. He hopped nearly across the floor\non his crutches and smacked the Young Mistress right in the mouth.\n\n\u201cI was wondering whether the Son of Ben Ali was sleeping all this\ntime, so I went and sat by the closet. I could hear the Son of Ben Ali\nbreathing very hard, and I said to myself, if he is not asleep, he is\nsitting in there crying.\u201d\n\nSweetest Susan looked at Aaron, and her beautiful eyes were full of\ntears. Aaron shook his head and smiled, and then pretended to be gazing\nat something in the fireplace.\n\n\u201cHe may have been laughing,\u201d continued Rambler, licking his foreleg,\nwhere a briar had scratched it, \u201cbut as there was nothing to laugh at,\nthat I could see, I thought maybe he was crying. But maybe he wasn\u2019t. I\u2019m\nnever certain of anything until I get my nose on it, and there was a wall\nbetween the Son of Ben Ali and me.\n\n\u201cThe Young Mistress and the Little Master were very angry, but before\nthey could say much a very curious thing happened. The door of the closet\nflew open, and the Son of Ben Ali tumbled out in a heap on the floor. The\nYoung Mistress fell back a step or two and gave a little scream, but the\nLittle Master stood his ground and lifted his crutch in a threatening\nmanner. But the Son of Ben Ali simply fell out of the closet in a heap.\nHe was still stiff and sore, and by the time he had gathered himself\ntogether the Young Mistress knew who he was, and in a moment, too, the\nLittle Master knew him.\n\n\u201c\u2018Why, it\u2019s Aaron!\u2019 he cried, though nobody ever told me why any one ever\ncalled the Son of Ben Ali Aaron.\n\n\u201cThen he seized the Son of Ben Ali\u2019s hand, and stood leaning against him\nfor support, as he did many and many a day and night after, as I have\nseen. The Little Master\u2019s head came no higher than the Son of Ben Ali\u2019s\nshoulder, though the child was standing on his feet, and the Son of Ben\nAli on his knees.\n\n\u201cThe Young Mistress said: \u2018If you stay here they will catch you, sure.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Son of Ben Ali shook his head, and the man named Abe made this\nreply: \u2018No, ma\u2019am, they\u2019ll not come back here in a hurry, after hearing\nwhat you said.\u2019\n\n\u201cAt this, they all laughed, except the Son of Ben Ali. \u2018You may be\ncertain,\u2019 he said, \u2018that I\u2019ll not stay here where I can be seen. The\nGossett negroes go hungry every day in the year, and for an extra pint of\nmeal they would tell everything they know and more too. And I would be\nthe last to blame them.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen suddenly the Little Master spoke: \u2018Can you climb a tree?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018By this time I ought to know how,\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali.\n\n\u201c\u2018Then come, I\u2019ll show you.\u2019 So saying, the Little Master swung himself\non his crutches and went hopping to the door as nimbly as if his legs\nwere sound and whole. And the Young Mistress went too, and I followed.\n\n\u201cBut by the time the Little Master had reached the door the Son of Ben\nAli was out and before him.\n\n\u201c\u2018You are such a good rider, I\u2019ll be your horse,\u2019 said the Son of Ben\nAli.\n\n\u201cHe took the crutches, leaned them against the door, and swung the Little\nMaster to his broad back, picking up the crutches, and sore as he was,\npretended to be a horse. We went toward the big house.\n\n\u201cIf you will notice, the stump of a big oak tree stands near the back\nporch. Before the tree was killed by fire, a big limb stretched to the\nlittle balcony above the porch. At least, it used to be so. The Little\nMaster showed this tree and the limb and the balcony to the Son of Ben\nAli, and told him that the big window that opened on the balcony was in\nhis room. And he said to him:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Whenever at night you feel lonely and tired, climb these stairs and\ncome to my room. Many a night I lie awake and count the stars, and I\nshould like to have you there to talk to me. You may come to-night, if\nyou will.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Son of Ben Ali stood a moment after he had placed the Little Master\non the steps and given him his crutches.\n\n\u201c\u2018Not to-night\u2014not to-night, Little Master. But before long I\u2019ll come.\nTo-night I must go into the woods and find me a hiding-place.\u2019\n\n\u201cSo said the Son of Ben Ali, and then he seized the Little Master\u2019s hand\nand kissed it, bowed to the Young Mistress, whistled for me, and went off\ninto the woods humming an old tune that made me feel sorry.\u201d\n\nAt this point Rambler tried to scratch between his shoulders, first with\none hind foot and then with the other. Then he tried to bite the fleas,\nbut he couldn\u2019t reach them, being old and stiff; and he sat and whined\nso pitifully that Aaron rubbed his back with a pine knot. This seemed\nto give him great relief, so much so that, hearing the dogs barking in\nanother part of the lot, he ran out at the door to join them, and soon\nthe deep mellow sound of his voice was heard baying with the rest.\n\nShortly afterward the children bade Aaron good-night, and it wasn\u2019t long\nbefore they were all in bed and sound asleep.\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nGRUNTER, THE WHITE PIG.\n\n\nWhen the children awoke the next morning, they found that they were as\nmuch puzzled as ever about Aaron. He had escaped from Mr. Gossett and the\npatrol, and he had gone into the woods; but what then? What did he do\nthere? How long did he stay? There were a thousand questions they wanted\nto ask. So the next time they saw Aaron, and each time thereafter, they\nbegged him to tell them this and tell them that, until finally he said he\nwould take them over to the two-mile place some fine day, and show them\nthe White Pig.\n\nNow, on that plantation, the White Pig was a well-known character. His\nhistory was a short one, but it was enough. A good many years before\nthat, an old sow, with thirteen pigs following her, concluded to go\ntraveling. She refused to come up to be fed when the other hogs were\ncalled. Nobody knew the reason. The hog feeder had a beautiful song to\ncall them with, and a strong, melodious voice with which to sing the\nsong\u2014a voice that could be heard from one end of the plantation to the\nother. But however long or however loud he might call, the old sow with\nher thirteen pigs kept close in the swamp.\n\nDay after day the hog feeder called; day after day he expected them to\ncome; and day after day they failed to come. After so long a time he went\nto hunt them. The old sow he found, but her pigs were missing. Some said\nthe foxes and wildcats had caught the young ones, and some said they had\ngone wild in the swamp. But when the negroes planted their watermelon and\ngoober patches, they soon found out that not all of the pigs had been\ncaught.\n\nThen a great effort was made to catch them. Some were run down and caught\nwith dogs, and some were shot; but one, the most mischievous of all, was\nnever caught. He kept out of the way of the guns, and he ripped open and\nkilled all the dog\u2019s that came within reach of him. He was fleet of foot\nand cunning. He never came out of the canebrake except at night, and he\nwas so white and swift that the negroes came to be afraid of him. They\nsaid to themselves that a pig that could fool the white people and outrun\na pack of foxhounds must be something more than a common pig.\n\nConsequently, when they were going through the fields at dead of night\nand heard the White Pig crunching goobers, or chewing sugar-cane, or\nsmacking his mouth over a yam potato, they said nothing, but slipped away\nas fast as they could, and left him to the enjoyment of his feast. This\nwent on until the White Pig grew to be strong and dangerous. His tusks,\nor tushes, as the negroes called them, were long and sharp. He could kill\nas many dogs as could be piled upon him. When a catch dog was sent after\nhim, he had a great trick of running until the dog came close enough, and\nthen wheeling and ripping the pursuer\u2019s hide open.\n\n[Illustration: THE WHITE PIG GREW STRONG AND DANGEROUS]\n\nIt came to pass that the sport of hunting the White Pig grew too\ndangerous to be indulged in, so he was left to roam in the swamps and\ncane-brakes with no one to molest. It happened, too, that as soon as\nhe was left alone, the White Pig ceased to molest the watermelons,\nsugar-canes, sweet potatoes, goobers, and other truck, which the negroes\nwere allowed to raise in order to make themselves a little pocket money.\nFor a long time this was the wonder of the plantation, and yet none of\nthe patches planted by the negroes were torn up and destroyed. Then, as\neverybody got used to this state of things, it ceased to be astonishing,\nand was no longer talked of. And some of the negroes even forgot that the\nWhite Pig was still at large, ready and willing to kill and cripple the\nbiggest pack of dogs that could be sent against him.\n\nThis, then, was the White Pig that Aaron said he would have to show the\nchildren. Many and many a time they had been told not to go too far from\nthe house for fear the White Pig would catch them. They had been taught\nto regard the White Pig as the Booger-Bear of the plantation, and they,\nas well as the negroes, stood greatly in awe of him, the more so as they\nhad never seen him. It is no wonder, therefore, that they looked at one\nanother with some astonishment when Aaron told them that he would have to\ntake them to the two-mile place and show them the White Pig.\n\n\u201cI speck he\u2019s tired of foolin\u2019 \u2019long wid us,\u201d said Drusilla, by way of\nexplanation, \u201can\u2019 I don\u2019t blame him much, kaze you-all been a-follerin\u2019\natter him an\u2019 a-ding-dongin\u2019 at him twel he done plum\u2019 wo\u2019 out.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou too!\u201d exclaimed Buster John.\n\n\u201cNot me!\u201d protested Drusilla. \u201cNo, suh! I ain\u2019t been a-ding-dongin\u2019 atter\nUnk A\u2019on; I ben a-follerin\u2019 atter you-all, an\u2019 dat what Mistiss tol\u2019 me\nter do. Ef I don\u2019t do it, she\u2019ll make me tote water fer mammy ter wash de\ncloze wid, an\u2019 I know mighty well I don\u2019t want ter do dat.\u201d\n\nBut Aaron, as it turned out, was not joking at all. So, one pleasant\nmorning, when he saw them playing in the spring lot, he gave them to\nunderstand that the time had come for them to make the acquaintance of\nthe White Pig, and Buster John said he was quite ready; but Sweetest\nSusan looked at Drusilla and hesitated a little. Drusilla looked at\nSweetest Susan and hesitated a good deal. In fact, she drew back.\n\n\u201cNow, I tell you what,\u201d she said, \u201cyou-all kin go on out dar in de swamp\nan\u2019 le\u2019 me stay here, an\u2019 den when you come back you kin set down an\u2019\ntell me all \u2019bout it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut mamma said you were to go with us wherever we went,\u201d Sweetest Susan\nreminded her.\n\n\u201cDat what she say,\u201d replied Drusilla, \u201cyit she ain\u2019t tell me to go wid\nyou out dar whar dat ar wil\u2019 hog is, which he done cripple a hoss an\u2019\nkilt a yardful er dogs. Unk A\u2019on kin take keer er you lots better dan\nwhat I kin.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome on,\u201d said Buster John to Sweetest Susan. \u201cLet her stay if she wants\nto.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d remarked Aaron, \u201cshe\u2019s big enough to go to the field now. We need\nher there right now.\u201d\n\nThis didn\u2019t suit Drusilla at all, so she ran toward the others, laughing.\n\n\u201cI wuz des foolin\u2019,\u201d she said. \u201cI des wanted ter see what you-all gwine\nter do. You may not need me, but I\u2019m gwine anyhow, an\u2019 ef de White Pig\ngit me, you\u2019ll hatter answer to Mistiss for it.\u201d\n\nAaron hitched a mule to the plantation cart, and in this rig they made\ntheir way to the two-mile place. They jogged along the little-used road,\nthe journey being enlivened by some of the queer songs that Aaron was in\nthe habit of singing when he was in a good humor. They went nearly to\nthe river\u2014the Oconee\u2014and then Aaron turned out of the plantation road,\nand drove straight through the woods and bushes until they came in sight\nof a big cane-brake. Here he stopped, took the mule from the cart, and\nfastened him with a long tether, so that he could browse around, and\nnibble the grass and bushes. Then he lifted Sweetest Susan to his broad\nshoulders, took Buster John by the hand, and went toward the cane-brake.\nHe went on until he came to the damp ground near the edge of the swamp.\nSelecting a dry place\u2014a little knoll higher than the rest\u2014Aaron stationed\nthe children there, and then went to the verge of the cane-brake.\nHere he paused, placed his two hands to his mouth, and gave utterance\nto a peculiar call, or cry. It sounded as if he were trying to say,\n\u201cGoof\u2014goof\u2014goof!\u201d but had smothered the noise with his hands. It was loud\nenough to be heard a considerable distance, however, for after he had\nrepeated the call three times there was a reply from the farther side of\nthe swamp, and presently the children heard a rushing, crashing sound\namong the canes.\n\nSweetest Susan crept a little closer to Buster John, and Drusilla\nsnuggled up to Sweetest Susan. The children were not frightened, but they\nwere filled with unknown anticipations. They knew not what to expect\nnext. The crashing noise in the canes seemed to come nearer, and then it\nsuddenly stopped. If it was the White Pig, he was listening.\n\n\u201cCome, White Pig! Come, Grunter, come!\u201d called Aaron. \u201cAre you then\nafraid?\u201d\n\nThe crashing sound in the canes was renewed more violently than ever, and\nin a moment the White Pig\u2014the terror of the plantation\u2014burst from the\nreeds with a grunt that was nearly a roar.\n\n\u201cI dunner what they call him a pig fer,\u201d whispered Drusilla, \u201che big\nenough for two hogs.\u201d\n\nAnd this was true. The White Pig was not fat, but he was lean and tall.\nHe was not a pretty pig by any means. There was a vicious twinkle in his\neye. His body was nearly covered with mud, and one of his ears was gone,\nhaving been torn away by dogs when he was less able to defend himself\nthan now.\n\n\u201cIt is long since I\u2019ve seen you, Son of Ben Ali. Humph! No wonder! What\nam I?\u201d\n\nAaron was about to say something, but the quick, restless eye of the\nWhite Pig caught sight of the children, and, with a snort of mingled fear\nand rage, he plunged into the cane-brake again. He ran a little way, as\nthe children could see by the shaking of the reeds, and then stopped to\nlisten. He heard nothing but the loud laugh Aaron sent after him.\n\n\u201cGo, then!\u201d cried Aaron. \u201cGo and stay. In the light here your shadow will\ncatch you. Go, then! The White Pig that used to roam these fields with me\nhad neither the heart nor the feet of a fox.\u201d\n\nPresently, when everything was quiet, the children could see by the\nshaking of the reeds, that the White Pig was coming out again. But this\ntime he came no further than the edge of the swamp. Nothing could be seen\nexcept his head and shoulders, and these, with one ear gone, were not as\npretty as a picture. His bristles stood up straight and stiff, from fear\nor anger, giving him a ragged appearance, and he opened and closed his\nmouth viciously.\n\n\u201cHumph! humph!\u201d he said. \u201cWho are these, Son of Ben Ali, and what trap\nhave you set for me?\u201d\n\n\u201cSome little children armed with broom straws,\u201d laughed Aaron. \u201cRun,\nWhite Pig, run. They will catch you, sure!\u201d\n\n\u201cBoof!\u201d cried the White Pig contemptuously. \u201cThe Spotted Sow goes about\nwith her children squealing behind her. When did the Son of Ben Ali take\nup that trade? Boof!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen the White Pig became afraid of his shadow,\u201d replied Aaron.\n\n\u201cThen why call me?\u201d asked the White Pig.\n\nAaron shook his head slowly. \u201cYou are right,\u201d he replied. \u201cWhy should I\ncall you at night, when I have a basket of new corn scattered for you?\u201d\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d grunted the White Pig.\n\n\u201cI call you because I choose to. The children yonder have seen the sign;\nthey have been touched. They know who we are and what we are. Two belong\nby blood to the Little Master. That is enough for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cHumph! Boof! Son of Ben Ali, it is also enough for me. Goof! I have seen\nthem\u2014they have seen me\u2014what more can I do? Why should I stay? The mud in\nthe swamp is soft and cool, but here the sun shines hot.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I had a bag of corn,\u201d suggested Aaron.\n\n\u201cI say nothing, Son of Ben Ali. I see no corn, and the sun shines hot.\nWhat am I to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cThese who have been touched and who have seen the sign are here to speak\nwith you. They came to hear you tell of the time when you and I lived in\nthese fields together, sleeping and hiding in the daytime, and slipping\nabout at night.\u201d\n\nThe White Pig\u2019s bristles no longer stood up.\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d he grunted. \u201cI will go wallow in the branch and wash the mud\noff.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe gone ter wash his face and hands, an\u2019 comb his hair,\u201d whispered\nDrusilla. \u201cI speck he gwine ter come buljin\u2019 out\u2019n dat swamp terreckly,\nan\u2019 den what we gwine do? Ef he look hard at me, I\u2019m gwine ter fall right\nflat on de groun\u2019 an\u2019 holler loud ez I kin squall.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if you do that,\u201d said Buster John, \u201cyou\u2019ll scare him, and they say\nthat when a wild hog is scared he gets mad.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do\u2019 know what I\u2019m gwine ter do,\u201d remarked Drusilla, after a pause,\nduring which she seemed to be thinking. \u201cBut I tell you now, I feel\nmighty quare. Ef dey wuz any tree \u2019roun\u2019 here I\u2019d climb it er break my\nneck tryin\u2019. You-all is de outdoinest white chillun I ever hear tell\nun\u2014comin\u2019 way out here from yo\u2019 pa an\u2019 ma des ter be ripped up an\u2019 kilt\nby a great big ol\u2019 wil\u2019 hog.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know the way back to the wagon,\u201d said Buster John. \u201cJust go there\nand wait till we come. You make too much fuss anyhow.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo dar by myself!\u201d exclaimed Drusilla. \u201cNo, suh! You don\u2019 know me! I\nwouldn\u2019t go \u2019cross dat hill dar by myse\u2019f, not fer ham! Uh-uh! I know I\nain\u2019t got much sense, but I got mo\u2019 sense dan dat. I wouldn\u2019t mo\u2019 dan\ngit out er sight er you-all fo\u2019 dat ar White Pig would have me. He may\nbe gwine ter ketch me anyhow, but ef he do I\u2019ll be right here where\nyou-all kin see me. You done brung me, en ef I git kilt, you-all will be\nde \u2019casion un it. Ef Marster an\u2019 Mistiss done come ter de pass whar dey\nwant de niggers fed ter hogs, an\u2019 wil\u2019 hogs at dat, den I ain\u2019t got no\ncomplaints ter make.\u201d\n\nBut Buster John and Sweetest Susan were paying the smallest attention to\nDrusilla. They were watching Aaron, and waiting for the White Pig to make\nhis appearance again. Finally Aaron turned away from the swamp and came\nto the children, and presently they heard the White Pig coming up behind\nthem, grunting and \u201cgoofing,\u201d though not so fiercely as before.\n\nDrusilla turned and saw him coming, and exclaimed: \u201cDar now! what I\ntell you. Ef I\u2019d a-started to\u2019rds dat wagon, he\u2019d a got me sho ez de\nworl\u2019. An\u2019 he may git me yit.\u201d She jumped up and ran towards Aaron for\nprotection. But he shook her in a way to convince her that she would do\nwell to keep quiet.\n\nThe White Pig had gone into the swamp, wallowed in the clean water of\nthe branch, and had then come out and gone around half a mile to see\nthat there was no ambuscade. He seemed to be very well satisfied, for he\ngrunted in a good-humored way as he trotted up.\n\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t go far enough, White Pig,\u201d said Aaron, \u201cI forgot you were\ngrowing old. My men are hid behind the wagon on the other hill. Next time\nI will bring them nearer\u2014even to the edge of the swamp.\u201d\n\n\u201cGoof\u2014goof!\u201d replied the White Pig. \u201cWhat would you have? I am alone.\nYou are yonder. I am here. How do I know that the Son of Ben Ali remains\nthe same? Humph! let me see for myself. Once you would go far to scratch\nmy back till I fell asleep in the shade. Once you would shake down the\nscalybarks in the woods. Now you fling corn here and there and go your\nway. And sometimes many suns and moons come between the baskets of corn.\nDo I complain? Goof! I go into the cool swamp and tell the red squirrels\nthat the Son of Ben Ali is sick, or away on a journey. And they say\n\u2018Come,\u2019 and we go into the woods beyond the swamp, and then the red\nsquirrels shake down the scalybarks and the hickory nuts. Goof! goof!\u201d\n\nAaron laid his hand on the White Pig\u2019s back and passed it gently through\nthe thick bristles.\n\n\u201cThat is so,\u201d said Aaron, \u201cbut you forget about the yams that are left\nburied in the field for you. You forget the goobers, the turnips, and the\nbank of sugar-cane. You forget the corn that is scattered here and there\nfor you every day when the weather is cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cGoof! Why should I think of them, Son of Ben Ali? Hot or cold, the long\nswamp is a feed trough for me. I need never come out of it. What is it to\nme if you come empty-handed, so you come? Do you think I have forgotten\nthe long nights when I trotted through the woods with you? Or when I\nran to the sound of your whistling? Or when I charged the hounds that\nwere trailing you and drove them away? I was thinking only of the Son of\nBen Ali. I am getting very old. My tusks are yellow, and one of them is\nbroken. I can run, but not so swiftly as when I carried you the news of\nthe great fire one night. No, my legs fail me.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are old,\u201d said Aaron. \u201cOf all your kind, you are the oldest I have\never seen.\u201d\n\n\u201cGoof\u2014humph! Why not? All the rest are glad to run into the pen when\nthey hear corn falling from the basket. They go in and eat and sleep\nuntil they are fat, and then some cold night you see the fires lit, and\nthen, one after another you hear the fat fools in the pen squeal. Then\nin the morning you can see them hanging by their heels in a row. Goof! I\nhave seen it. Hanging by their heels, their hair off, and their throats\ncut. Oof! It makes me shiver. I saw it when I was running about with\nmy mother, and though I have gone hungry many a night, never did I go\nthrough a gap in the fence that was left for me, and never did I follow\nthe rest when they went to be fed in the pen.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: GRUNTER ASKING THE RED SQUIRRELS FOR NUTS]\n\nAll this time the White Pig, using his forefeet as pivots, turned his\nbody first one way and then the other, watching every open space, and\noften pausing to listen. There was an air of wildness about him that kept\nthe children quiet and subdued.\n\n\u201cThese,\u201d said Aaron, \u201care my friends. They shall be yours, if you choose.\u201d\n\n\u201cHumph! What do they want with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe want to hear you tell about the time when Uncle Aaron was a runaway,\u201d\nsuggested Buster John.\n\n\u201cGoof! Who is Uncle Aaron?\u201d asked the White Pig.\n\n\u201cMe,\u201d said Aaron.\n\n\u201cOof\u2014oof!\u201d cried the White Pig, scornfully. \u201cReturn to the swamp, Son of\nBen Ali, where we have no such names. The paths are all there. I have\nkept them hard and firm. Come!\u201d\n\nAaron shook his head. \u201cIt is too late,\u201d he said. \u201cI belong yonder; you\nbelong here.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll go where I belong. Ooft!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen you have pleased my friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow, Son of Ben Ali. Not now. They are too far from home.\nTo-night, when the moon stands high, I\u2019ll come through the long lane that\nhas been closed, and hide in the plum thicket that has been left in the\npeach orchard.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo then,\u201d said Aaron, \u201cwe will go. Before long I\u2019ll come and have a race\nwith you in the swamp.\u201d\n\n\u201cOof\u2014ooft!\u201d grunted the White Pig. \u201cYou shall win if you can!\u201d\n\nThen Aaron and the children started back to where they had left the\nwagon. The White Pig trotted with them a quarter of a mile or more, and\nthen paused and sniffed the air.\n\n\u201cGooft! The sun is too bright here. As for me, I travel in the dark.\u201d\n\nWith that he turned and went galloping back into the swamp.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nTHE WHITE PIG\u2019S STORY.\n\n\nThe next day the children were ready to go to the plum thicket in the\npeach orchard as soon as they had their breakfast, but while they were\ntalking about it a new trouble arose. It grew out of a question asked by\nDrusilla.\n\n\u201cIs Unk A\u2019on gwine \u2019long wid us?\u201d she inquired.\n\nIt was a natural and an innocent question, but it presented a difficulty.\nSweetest Susan looked at Buster John for an answer, and Buster John\nlooked at Sweetest Susan and Drusilla, but made no reply.\n\n\u201cKaze ef he ain\u2019t,\u201d remarked Drusilla, pursuing the subject, \u201cyou\u2019ll des\nhatter count me out. I\u2019ll stan\u2019 off som\u2019ers whar I kin run an\u2019 holler\nwhen dat ar wil\u2019 hog git mad an\u2019 rip you up, but when it comes ter gwine\nright whar he is when Unk A\u2019on ain\u2019t wid us, I ain\u2019t gwine ter do it. So\ndar you got it, flat an\u2019 plain. I ain\u2019t gwine. I watch his eye yistiddy,\nan\u2019 time I see it lookin\u2019 red on de eye-ball, I know\u2019d dat ar hog was\nrank pizen when he git mad.\u201d\n\nFinally Buster John said he would find Aaron, but Aaron was not to be\nfound. He had gone off with the plow hands early in the morning, and\nwouldn\u2019t be back before night. Thereupon Buster John declared that he was\ngoing to the plum thicket, if he had to go by himself.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m most afraid,\u201d said Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m wuss\u2019n dat,\u201d exclaimed Drusilla. \u201cI\u2019m skeered des dry so.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen both of you stay where you are,\u201d cried Buster John. He started\noff very boldly, but not without some misgivings. Looking back without\npretending to do so, he saw Sweetest Susan coming, though very slowly,\nwhile Drusilla was dragging along and bringing up the rear, quarreling,\nand begging Sweetest Susan to turn back. Buster John stopped and told his\nsister to come on, and waited for her.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll go whar I kin see how dat wil\u2019 hog do when he eats folks, but\nhosses can\u2019t drag me in dat ar plum thicket whar he hidin\u2019,\u201d remarked\nDrusilla.\n\nSweetest Susan was not much afraid, seeing Buster John so bold, and\nBuster John was made bolder by the fact that his sister seemed willing to\ngo. So they went, Drusilla bringing up the rear and protesting.\n\nThe plum thicket grew on each side of a gully that had washed in the\nlower part of the orchard. The plum trees were small and grew very close\ntogether, and the gully was filled with a season\u2019s growth of weeds that\nhad not been uprooted by the rains. So that, taken altogether, the plum\nthicket was a very convenient hiding-place for the White Pig, or for any\nother creature not larger than a horse.\n\nThe children approached it cautiously, and hesitated about entering.\nWhile they were halting and considering what to do, they heard a grunt\nfrom the middle of the thicket\u2014a grunt as friendly and as familiar as\nif it came from a fat hog in a pen. Reassured by this, Buster John went\ninto the thicket, followed by Sweetest Susan. They went in cautiously and\nlooked about them very cautiously, but they could see nothing.\n\n\u201cOoft\u2014gooft!\u201d grunted the White Pig in a contented manner. \u201cWhere am I?\nCan\u2019t you find me?\u201d\n\nThey looked about them with all the eyes they had, but failed to find\nhim. Their search became so interesting that Sweetest Susan laughed.\nThere was nothing to laugh at, but she was so thrilled by the excitement\nof trying to find the White Pig\u2014and he was not a small pig by any\nmeans\u2014that she had to express her feelings in some way, and so she\nlaughed.\n\nAt that moment Drusilla came to the edge of the thicket. Hearing Sweetest\nSusan laugh, she grew bold enough to venture in.\n\n\u201cWhat you-all doin,\u2019 I like ter know?\u201d she asked in a somewhat dubious\ntone.\n\n\u201cOh, come and help us, Drusilla!\u201d cried Sweetest Susan, as gleefully as\nif she were playing hide-the-switch, or kick-the-can. \u201cWe are trying to\nfind him. He\u2019s hiding in here, and we can\u2019t find him. Come on!\u201d\n\nDrusilla joined the others, but not with any degree of enthusiasm.\n\u201cYou-all want ter fin\u2019 \u2019im lots wuss\u2019n I does. I\u2019m mo\u2019 fear\u2019d er fin\u2019in\u2019\n\u2019im dan I is er not fin\u2019in\u2019 \u2019im.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE WHITE PIG TELLS HIS STORY]\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s go across the gully,\u201d said Buster John. He ran down the bank,\nthrough the thick weeds, and out on the other side, followed by Sweetest\nSusan. Drusilla would have followed, too, but just as she had reached the\nbottom of the gully and started through the weeds, the White Pig rose by\nher side with a loud grunt. Drusilla was so terrified that she sank in\nthe weeds, unable to utter a sound. Sweetest Susan screamed and Buster\nJohn was so taken by surprise and so confused, that for an instant he was\nundecided whether to take to his heels, dragging his sister after him, or\nwhether to stand his ground.\n\n\u201cGooft\u2014ooft!\u201d grunted the White Pig. \u201cWhat is the matter here?\u201d\n\nWith this he walked out of the gully, went past Buster John and Drusilla,\nand lay down where the shade was thickest. Drusilla recovered almost\nimmediately, and, as sometimes happens with older and more enlightened\npeople, anger took the place of fear. To the surprise of her companions,\nshe came out of the gully, walked straight to the White Pig, and sat down\nby him, so close that she might have touched him with her hand without\nunbending her arm.\n\n\u201cHumph!\u201d grunted the White Pig, in a friendly way. \u201cThat is better. The\nSon of Ben Ali brought some roasting ears before the sun came out. They\nwere very fine\u2014sweet and juicy. Gooft!\u201d The White Pig smacked his mouth\nand blinked his eyes as if to show how he had enjoyed the feast. Buster\nJohn and Sweetest Susan seated themselves near Drusilla.\n\n\u201cThe first time I saw the Son of Ben Ali,\u201d said the White Pig, \u201cI was\njust big enough to hide in the grass and run about without squealing\nfor my mammy. I used to slip out of the swamp and run into the woods\nafter the acorns. The red squirrel was my friend then, and his\ngreat-grand-children are my friends now. He used to climb the big turkey\noak, and run about on the limbs pretending to be playing, but all the\ntime he would be shaking down the sweet little acorns. He barked at\nme and I grunted at him, and we used to have a very nice time all by\nourselves.\n\n\u201cOne day, while I was out in the open woods cracking acorns, I heard some\none call, \u2018Run here little Pig! run quick!\u2019 I didn\u2019t have any better\nsense than to do as I was told, so I ran as hard as I could toward the\ncall. Then I heard a zooning sound in the air, a loud squall, and a noise\nas of a tree falling. I ran right into the hands of a big man. I was\nterribly frightened, and I suppose I must have squealed as loud as I\ncould. The big man was the Son of Ben Ali, and he hushed me up by telling\nme that he called me because a wildcat had been watching me from the\nlowest limb of the turkey oak.\n\n\u201cHumph\u2014ooft!\u201d grunted the White Pig, \u201cthe only reason he didn\u2019t get me\nwas because the Son of Ben Ali struck him with a stone just as he started\nto jump. The wildcat fell out of the tree dead. His skull was shivered.\nYou have never seen the Son of Ben Ali throw a stone? Well that is\nbetween you and him. I have seen him.\n\n\u201cHe killed the wildcat that my mammy had often told me about, and after\nthat I came to know the Son of Ben Ali well. Whenever I could find him,\nnight or day, I trotted around with him, and that is how it happened that\nwhen my brothers and sisters were shot by men and caught by dogs I was\nnot with them to be shot or caught. I was trotting about with the Son of\nBen Ali.\n\n\u201cIt was the same thing day after day and night after night, the Son of\nBen Ali coming and going, and I trotting at his heels or running in the\nbushes close by. One day, when the sun had gone down, we were slipping\nalong behind the orchard here. The Son of Ben Ali said he was going to\nsee the Little Master, and I was to wait for him. I heard a dog bark, and\nthis made me stop. And then, while I was listening, a man came upon us\u2014a\nwhite man. He seemed to rise out of a dark place in the road. I dodged\ninto a fence corner before he saw me, and stood there, listening.\n\n\u201c\u2018Who are you?\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali. His voice shook a little.\n\n\u201c\u2018That\u2019s what the owl said,\u2019 answered the white man. This tickled me so\nthat I grunted before I knew it. The white man laughed, too, and said he\nwas the Teacher of the young people at the big house. Gooft! a Teacher!\nThere was once a schoolhouse\u2014they called it that, but it was nothing in\nthe world but a log cabin\u2014in the woods over yonder. Every day the Teacher\nwould come and pound and pummel the boys, and every day the boys would go\nout and stone the cows and hogs. They killed a blood cousin of mine.\n\n\u201cSo I said to myself, Gooft! if this Teacher is teaching the Little\nMaster to do these things, I will keep out of the Little Master\u2019s way.\n\n[Illustration: A WILD CAT WAS WATCHING ME]\n\n\u201cHumph! The Son of Ben Ali said to this Teacher: \u2018You ought to know me.\nYou saw me in the speculator\u2019s train, and you saw me sold from the block.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Teacher placed his hand on the Son of Ben Ali\u2019s shoulder and\nreplied: \u2018I came from far away, and there the people are thinking about\nyou and praying for you. Bear that in mind\u2014thinking about you, and\npraying for you every day and every night. Hundreds, thousands, tens of\nthousands\u2014all thinking about you and praying for you.\u2019\n\n\u201cGooft\u2014ooft! This Teacher talked as the man talks in the little house on\nthe creek road where the people go when the bell rings\u2014the little house\nwith the high wooden chimney, where the bell is.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a church,\u201d said Buster John.\n\n\u201cHumph! It may be a church for all I know. I have stood in the woods and\nheard the man talk to the people, and the Teacher talked just like him. I\ndon\u2019t know what else the Teacher said to the Son of Ben Ali, nor what the\nSon of Ben Ali said to him, but that night, after the Son of Ben Ali had\nseen the Little Master, and when we were on our way back to the woods,\nwe met the Teacher again. He had been to another plantation, and told the\nnegroes there how the people in his country were thinking about them and\npraying for them.\n\n\u201c\u2018You go too far from home,\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali. \u2018Many a negro where\nyou\u2019ve been to-night will tell what you have said, in hopes of getting an\nextra rasher of meat.\u2019\n\n\u201cOoft\u2014gooft!\u201d grunted the White Pig; \u201cand hog meat at that. But the\nTeacher said that he would trust them.\n\n\u201c\u2018The best good-night I can give you,\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali, \u2018is not\nto trust them too much or too far.\u2019\n\n\u201cOoft\u2014oof! Now you might wonder how I could remember such little things.\nBut little things have a way of growing, and this was one of the little\nthings that grew. Humph! It grew like a pumpkin vine. One thing followed\nanother like sheep jumping over a rail on the ground. The last sheep to\ngo over jumps higher than a man\u2019s head. So with these things I am telling\nyou of. They grew, and they jumped.\n\n\u201cWhen we met the Teacher, the grass was green, but it was not long\nbefore the winds began to blow keen and cold, and then the grass\nshriveled and the leaves on the trees began to fall. As for me, I could\nlie in the sedge and keep warm, or I could make me a bed of leaves on the\nwindward side of the fence and never know that the weather was cold. With\nthe Son of Ben Ali, it was different. Not having been born free to the\nwoods and the weather\u2014to the four winds and the four seasons\u2014humph!\u2014he\nmust have a fire. He must have a fire that could be felt and not be seen.\nSo he dug him a hole in the ground, a trench he called it, and in this he\nmade his fire, and he seemed to be very fond of it when the weather was\ndamp and cold.\n\n\u201cOne night when I was returning from the yam patch to the top of the\nhill, I heard horses going along the road. I knew the horses had riders,\nfor I could hear no wheels. The fog was heavy and thick, and so I went\nclose to the road to see and hear what I could. I slipped through the wet\ngrass and listened. Suddenly one of the riders pulled up his horse and\ncried out:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Look! look on the hill yonder!\u2019\n\n\u201cI turned to see what it was, and it was terrible enough to scare\nanybody. On the clouds above the hill was the shadow of a man as big as\na fodder stack, and as high as the tallest pine. Even the horses saw it\nand snorted with fear. The shadow raised its arms above its head and then\nlet them drop quickly. I knew at once that it was the shadow of the Son\nof Ben Ali, but even then I had a quaking fear. Suddenly I heard another\nvoice call out:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Whoever you are, come and help a man in trouble.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Son of Ben Ali heard it, too, for the cry of the man for help had\nhardly died away before the shadow on the clouds disappeared as if it\nhad been wiped out. I knew that the voice that had called to the shadow\nwas the voice of the Teacher, the man who had told the Son of Ben Ali\nthat thousands and tens of thousands were praying for him. And I wondered\nwhether the thousands and the tens of thousands were praying for the\nTeacher, now that he seemed to be in trouble.\n\n\u201cThe Teacher called again, and then I heard the voice of old Grizzly\u2019s\nson George tell the man to hush or he would blow his brains out.\n\n[Illustration: LOOK ON THE HILL YONDER]\n\n\u201c\u2018But I have done nothing to you, gentlemen,\u2019 said the Teacher. \u2018I have\nnot harmed you in the least. What have you seized me for, and where are\nyou taking me?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Hush, you sniveling wretch!\u2019 said old Grizzly\u2019s son George. \u2018You\u2019ve\nbeen colloguing with the niggers, and telling them about freedom. You\nwant to raise an insurrection, and you\u2019ll have to pay for it!\u2019\n\n\u201cAfter that the Teacher said no more, and the patrol rode on. I could\nsee, dark as it was, that they had the Teacher riding behind Old\nGrizzly\u2019s son George. The Teacher was tied with a rope, and the rope was\nfastened to Old Grizzly\u2019s son. All this I saw, and I saw guns\u2014gooft\u2014the\nthings that burn and sting you from afar. It was well that my eyes\nwere fitted for the dark, otherwise the Son of Ben Ali would have been\nriddled. But I ran and met him, and told him of the guns. He wanted to\nslip among the horses, cut the ropes that bound the Teacher, and carry\nhim out of hearing among the bushes. But there were the guns!\n\n\u201cThen the Son of Ben Ali wanted me to run ahead, get in the road and rush\nout at the horses when they came up, while he cut the ropes from the\nTeacher. Gooft! But there were the guns! We heard the men talking, and\nfound that they were going to take the Teacher to a cross-roads store,\ncalled Harmony, seven miles away, and there hang him.\u201d\n\nSweetest Susan shuddered. Drusilla cried, \u201cWell, suh!\u201d Buster John pulled\nup a big bunch of grass and threw it away from him. His face was red with\nanger or excitement.\n\n\u201cHumph! Hang him to a limb!\u201d grunted the White Pig. \u201cOoft! There was a\nbridge a quarter of a mile ahead. It was long and narrow and low\u2014just\nwide enough for a wagon and not higher from the shallow creek than a\nman\u2019s head. Over this bridge the men had to go, and the Son of Ben Ali\nwanted me to run ahead, get on the further end of the bridge, charge the\nhorses when they reached the middle, and then jump off and get under the\nbridge before the men could make their guns talk. It was not to my taste.\nIf I had had to choose between charging the horses on that bridge and a\nmess of ripe persimmons\u2014humph\u2014I think I would have taken a few of the\npersimmons. But what could I do? Gooft! The Son of Ben Ali had his mind\nmade up.\n\n\u201cSo I ran ahead, jumped over a low place in the fence, and reached the\nbridge before the horses did. I heard them come on the other end of the\nbridge, and I tried to get my bristles up, but\u2014gooft\u2014ooft\u2014they wouldn\u2019t\nstay up. As the men came across I went to meet them, and when they came\nwithin a few steps of me, I charged at them, making as much noise as I\ncould, crying:\n\n\u201c\u2018Gooft\u2014ooft! Gooft!\u2019\n\n\u201cIt was all so sudden that the horses were terribly frightened. There\nwere five of them. One reared and I ran under his forelegs. Another shied\ntoo far to one side, and went crashing through the railing into the\ncreek. One of the horses kicked me, and\u2014gooft!\u2014that made me mad. For the\nfirst time my bristles rose. I rushed at them with open mouth. Another\ncrashed through the railing and went over. All this time I could see the\nSon of Ben Ali at the heels of the horse that was carrying the Teacher\nand old Grizzly\u2019s son.\n\n\u201cBut the horse was scared nearly to death. His rider couldn\u2019t manage him.\nHe was wild. Before the Son of Ben Ali could cut the rope, the scared\nhorse had whirled and rushed off the bridge, and I went after him. The\nSon of Ben Ali disappeared, and I went over the fence and rested in the\nbushes. Presently the Son of Ben Ali came creeping to where I was. He was\nwet with sweat and trembling all over.\n\n\u201cNeither the men nor the horses were hurt. Gooft! they came together and\nsat on their horses within a few steps of where we lay. One said it was a\nman seven feet high. Another said it was a wild varment as big as a lion.\nStill another said it was Satan. Gooft\u2014ooft! The Teacher said it was a\nwarning. Ooft! \u2018The hand of the Lord is in it,\u2019 he said.\n\n\u201c\u2018It will be a hard race, little Grunter\u2014a hard race! It is three miles\nto the big house, and from there eight miles to Harmony. It is to be a\nhard race, little Grunter\u2014a hard race. But it must be run.\u2019 So said the\nSon of Ben Ali.\n\n\u201c\u2018Am I to go, Son of Ben Ali?\u2019 I said.\n\n\u201c\u2018As far as you may and as fast as you can, little Grunter.\u2019\n\n\u201cGooft! you have never seen the Son of Ben Ali throw a stone, and you\nhave never seen him run! We got in the big road where the ground was\nfirm. Gooft! I began to gallop, but I heard the Son of Ben Ali right at\nmy heels. I began to run, and\u2014gooft\u2014ooft!\u2014I heard him closer at my heels.\nThe faster I went, the faster the Son of Ben Ali went. I was a pretty\nswift runner and am to this day, but that night I could never get more\nthan twenty steps away from the Son of Ben Ali. Gooft! he was running to\nsave life, and I was running for fun. Once we passed a stray traveler\u2014a\nstray negro. He called out: \u2018What are you trying to do, brother?\n\u2018Ooft!\u2014and the Son of Ben Ali called back: \u2018Trying to catch little\nGrunter, brother!\u2019 Gooft\u2014and the stranger cried: \u2018I wish you mighty well,\nmy brother!\u2019\n\n\u201cGooft\u2014ooft! It was a warm race and a long one. We were not going as fast\nat the end as we were at the beginning. Ooft! but we were going. And\nwe went till we came to the horse lot, and then I stopped. I spoke to\nthe Son of Ben Ali and said that we were now as close to the hogpen as\nI hoped ever to be, and so he cried out as he ran: \u2018Good night, little\nGrunter!\u2019 I heard him go to the stable where the Black Stallion, the Son\nof Abdallah, is kept. Then I heard the door thrown open, and the Son of\nAbdallah came out with a scream and a snort, and that is all I know. The\nrest the Black Stallion can tell you.\n\n\u201cOoft\u2014gooft! That is all. Say nothing to no one. I\u2019ll sleep here a\nlittle, and when the sun gets lower I\u2019ll slip away to the swamp.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are very much obliged to you,\u201d said Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cHumph\u2014umph! Humph\u2014umph!\u201d grunted the White Pig. \u201cNicely said\u2014nicely\nsaid! I\u2019m over-paid.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\nTHE BLACK STALLION\u2019S STORY.\n\n\nThe children were anxious to hear the rest of the story at once, but they\nwere compelled to wait. The White Pig had told all he knew, and Aaron was\non the other side of the plantation. So Buster John and Sweetest Susan\namused themselves by wondering whether the Teacher was hanged or whether\nhe was rescued. As for Drusilla, she very plainly said that she didn\u2019t\nmuch care. It was all past and gone anyhow. Break a pumpkin, she said,\nand nobody in the world can mend it, not even if people were to come and\ncry over it.\n\nBut Buster John and Sweetest Susan thought it made all the difference\nwhether a man was hanged or saved. They talked about it a good deal, and\nwhen they went to the house they asked their grandfather the name of the\nman who had come from a far country to teach their Uncle Crotchet. The\nold gentleman leaned back in his chair and looked at the youngsters. He\nsmiled a little, and then closed his eyes and seemed to be thinking. The\nquestion had carried him back to the past.\n\n\u201cHave you forgotten his name, Grandfather?\u201d asked Sweetest Susan, after a\nwhile.\n\n\u201cForgotten his name!\u201d exclaimed the grandfather. \u201cOh, no! No, indeed! His\nname was Hudspeth\u2014Richard Hudspeth. I remember him as well as if he had\nbeen here only yesterday. At bottom, he was a fine character. He came\nhere from Massachusetts, and he went back there.\u201d\n\nThe grandfather paused and drummed gently on the arms of his easy chair.\nThen\u2014\n\n\u201cYes; he went back there. He is a big man now. He was elected to Congress\nsome time ago. We have had some correspondence. He is a very able man. I\nwonder if he remembers his adventures here?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is a bitter abolitionist,\u201d said the children\u2019s father.\n\n\u201cHe was always that,\u201d said the grandfather. \u201cBut I shall always love him\non account of Little Crotchet. The two were devoted to each other.\u201d\n\n\u201cGrandfather,\u201d said Sweetest Susan, after a while, \u201cwhat is a bitter\nabolitionist? Isn\u2019t that what papa said?\u201d she asked, seeing her\ngrandfather laugh.\n\n\u201cMy darling child, you wouldn\u2019t know now if I were to tell you. Run along\nwith Drusilla. I\u2019ll think it over, and tell you about it some other time.\u201d\n\nSweetest Susan and Drusilla joined Buster John in the yard, and there\nthey discussed the matter, without coming to any conclusion. Buster John\nknew that the abolitionists wanted to free the negro slaves, but that was\nall.\n\nThat night they went to Aaron\u2019s house and asked him whether the Teacher\nhad been hanged or rescued, but Aaron said he was too tired to sit up\nand talk. He said he would be around the lot all day the next day, and\nthen they could go and see Timoleon, who could tell all about it. This\nsatisfied the children, and they went to bed happy in the expectation of\nvisiting the Black Stallion.\n\nThe children were up bright and early the next morning, which was\nsomething unusual, for they were very fond of sleeping late. As soon as\nDrusilla had eaten her breakfast\u2014she waited on the children, at the\ntable, and was allowed to eat as soon as they had finished\u2014all three went\nhunting for Aaron. They found him right where they wanted to find him, in\nthe lot where Timoleon\u2019s stable stood. So they went to him, and he lost\nno time in opening the door of the stable.\n\nThe Black Stallion did not have fresh air and exercise every day, and so\nhe sprung through the open door and went galloping madly about the field,\nsending forth a screaming challenge to the whole plantation. He galloped\nabout the field as far as the limits of the high fence would permit, and\npaid no attention to either Aaron or the children.\n\n\u201cHe has forgotten us,\u201d said Sweetest Susan in some alarm.\n\nAaron laughed. \u201cFolks forget,\u201d said he, \u201cbut my brothers that run on four\nlegs never forget.\u201d\n\nWhen the Black Stallion had taken his exercise, he walked slowly back to\nthe stable, sometimes pausing to crop the grass or to hold his head high\nin the air.\n\n\u201cGrandson of Abdallah,\u201d said Aaron, \u201cyou have forgotten your friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am the forgotten one, Son of Ben Ali,\u201d replied Timoleon, \u201cmy feed is\nchucked into the trough, the door is shut, and I am left to chew my cud.\nAm I a cow, that I should be chewing my cud? Am I a hog, that I should be\nfastened in a pen?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhose fault, Grandson of Abdallah? You will have no one to feed you but\nme, and I\u2014well, what I have to do I must do. The grandchildren of the\nWhite-haired Master are here.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought they had forgotten me, Son of Ben Ali. I am glad they are\nhere. But what of it? I go in my pen, and the door is closed; what\nmatters it to me whether they are here or yonder?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Grandson of Abdallah. In the pasture here the morning sun shines,\nthe grass is green, the air is cool. Here for a little while you may stay\nwith these grandchildren of the White-haired Master. Your stable is to be\ncleaned.\u201d\n\nFor answer, the Black Stallion sought out a soft place in the grass, held\nhis head close to the ground, walked in a small circle that constantly\ngrew smaller until his knees bent under him, and then he keeled over on\nhis side and began to wallow. This finished, he rose and began to graze\nclose to the children, apparently as gentle as any horse could be.\n\n\u201cDo you remember the night the White-haired Master rode you to Harmony?\u201d\nasked Aaron from inside the stable.\n\nThe Grandson of Abdallah raised his head and went to the stable door, his\nmouth half full of grass. Some of the grass must have tickled his nose,\nfor he snorted twice in quick succession.\n\n\u201cDo I remember it, Son of Ben Ali? How could I forget it? It was a little\nwhile before the big race at Lexington. That was the night I learned how\nto put my nose at a horse\u2019s flank and run the breath out of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe children of the White-haired Master would like to hear of that,\u201d\nsaid Aaron.\n\n\u201cIt was at night,\u201d remarked the Black Stallion, threshing at a perverse\nfly with his tail. \u201cWhat time, I know not, but I had been dozing, and\njust before that I had heard the chickens crow. There was no moon. The\nbig white star was glittering where the sun rises, and there was frost\nin the air. Suddenly I heard some one tugging at my stable door and the\nvoice of the Son of Ben Ali calling.\n\n\u201cThe door was barred, but he broke the bar. The stable was dark, but he\nfound the bridle, blanket, and saddle. He cried:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Steady, Son of Abdallah! There is work for us this night!\u2019\n\n\u201cI bit at him in play, and took a piece of his coat off, but he made no\npause until saddle and bridle were on. Then he ran through the door,\ncrying \u2018Come, Son of Abdallah! Come! There is work for us to-night!\nSteady! You will have play enough before the night is over.\u2019\n\n\u201cI liked nothing better than that, so I sprang through the door, and went\ngalloping after the Son of Ben Ali. He ran to the house, and there I saw\nthe Gray Mare, my sister, standing. She was bridled, but the saddle was\nmissing.\n\n\u201c\u2018Stand here!\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali. He placed his hand on the yard\nfence and sprang over, though the gate was near. He ran to the big tree\nnear the corner of the house, and began to walk upward. This was new to\nme, so I started back in some surprise. But the Son of Ben Ali called to\nme to be quiet, and in a minute he had disappeared in the little window\nthat juts from the roof.\n\n\u201cThen I heard the voice of the Little Master crying \u2018Take me down stairs!\u2019\n\n\u201cIn a little while the Son of Ben Ali came down the tree and stood at the\ndoor, which was presently opened by the White-haired Master. His speech\nwas short and quick:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Where are the horses?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Here, Master,\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali, who came running toward me.\n\u2018Mount here, Master.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Show me the way!\u2019 said the White-haired Master.\n\n\u201cThe Son of Ben Ali flung himself on the Gray Mare, my sister. The\ngates were all open, and we went through them in a hurry. I felt the\nWhite-haired Master settle himself in the saddle and try the stirrups.\nThen his knees pressed a little closer to the saddle, and I thought,\n\u2018Here is a rider\u2014a little heavy, but more helpful than a lighter man who\nhas never learned to fit himself to the curve of the saddle, and to move\nas the horse moves.\u2019 He reached his right arm forward to feel of the play\nof my shoulders, and gave me a gentle pat by way of praise.\n\n\u201cThe Gray Mare, my sister, was trained for racing, while I was raw and\nuntried, waiting for my turn, that came afterward, and she tripped along\nahead of me as lightly as a rabbit that has just been frightened from its\nbed.\n\n\u201cWe cleared the gates and the narrow lane, and presently struck into the\nbig road.\n\n\u201c\u2018Are we going to Harmony?\u2019 asked the White-haired Master.\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, Master.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018We shall have to ride, then.\u2019\n\n\u201cAt that the Gray Mare, my sister, seemed to glide away from me. The\nSon of Ben Ali had slapped her with his open hand. I went after her\nwith a little rush that never moved the White-haired Master in his\nsaddle. I felt my blood tingling. Whatever the Gray Mare, my sister, was\ndoing, I knew I was going at only half speed, and I longed to show the\nWhite-haired Master what I could do.\n\n\u201cI said as we galloped, \u2018My sister, this night you will see which of us\nhas the swiftest feet.\u2019 The answer she made was a loud snort, and again\nshe tried to glide away, but I kept my muzzle at the Son of Ben Ali\u2019s\nknee.\n\n\u201c\u2018Not now,\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali. \u2018Wait! Wait till we cross the\nbridge.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Are we riding or playing?\u2019 asked the White-haired Master. Man, we\u2019ll be\ntoo late!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018When we cross the bridge, we\u2019ll go, Master,\u2019 said the Son of Ben Ali.\n\n\u201cYet the ground was firm and springy, and the road level. I was so\nfretted that I bit at the Son of Ben Ali\u2019s leg. \u2018You won\u2019t play when you\ncome to your journey\u2019s end, Grandson of Abdallah,\u2019 he said. I knew then\nthat we would go fast enough after awhile, and so I fell back a little\nand settled down to a swift, steady gallop. My easy movements must have\npleased the White-haired Master, for he reached forward and gave me a\nlove-lick, saying, \u2018Good horse!\u2019\n\n\u201cSo in a little while we came to the bridge, a small affair, but rickety.\nOn the other side the Son of Ben Ali leaned forward a little, saying,\n\u2018Now, Master!\u2019 The Gray Mare, my sister, leaped away from me with a\nsnort. I threw my head forward as the White-haired Master gave me the\nlength of the rein, and the Gray Mare, my sister, soon found that she\nwould not have the road to herself.\n\n[Illustration: THE GRAY MARE LEAPED AWAY FROM ME]\n\n\u201cWithin a quarter of a mile, I was running with my nose at her flank, and\nI kept it there. I could have run past her, but I knew the White-haired\nMaster would give the word for that, and so I kept my place. Yet, I could\nfeel that the Gray Mare, my sister, was trying her best to get away from\nme.\n\n\u201cThe sound of our feet on the hard road must have made a terrible\nclatter. I could hear it flung back at us from the woods on either side.\nOnce, as we were passing a house by the roadside, a pack of curs came\ntrooping out at us. This was my chance. The Gray Mare, my sister, shied,\nwhile I ran right through the pack, knocking them right and left. The\nWhite-haired Master touched me again, saying, \u2018Good horse!\u2019 and shook the\nreins just a little, but it was enough. Before the dog I had crippled\ncould yelp twice, I had taken the road away from the Gray Mare, my\nsister. I could hear her coming behind me. I could hear the Son of Ben\nAli slap her first with his open hand, and then with the slack of the\nbridle rein.\n\n\u201cBut it did no good. I loved to listen to the clatter of my feet on the\nhard clay in the road. I was proud to feel that I was not running at full\nspeed. I was proud to know that the White-haired Master had grown young\nagain, and to feel him holding the reins just steady enough to catch\nme should I chance to stumble. I was proud to feel him sitting in the\nsaddle, balancing himself to all my movements so as not to worry me with\nhis weight.\n\n\u201cSuddenly I felt him turn in the saddle and look back. Then his firm hand\nchecked me, and I knew that the Gray Mare, my sister, had been more than\nmatched. As I settled down into a steadier gallop the White-haired Master\nsaid:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Another racehorse here, boy\u2014the greatest of all.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes, Master,\u2019 replied the Son of Ben Ali, \u2018he is the grandson of\nAbdallah.\u2019\n\n\u201cIt was well that the White-haired Master drew rein when he did, for we\nstill had two miles to go, and the Gray Mare, my sister, was beginning to\nblow a little. But we rested ourselves by going easily. Presently I saw\nfirelight shining through the trees half a mile ahead.\n\n\u201c\u2018That\u2019s the place!\u2019 cried the White-haired Master.\n\n\u201cHe leaned forward in the saddle, and I took that for a signal to go. It\nwas a level road, and I stretched myself out for a run that would please\nand surprise the White-haired Master. As I ran I wondered what the people\nat the fire would think as they heard us thundering down the road.\n\n\u201cNobody knows to this day what they thought. We were upon them before\nthey could gather their wits about them. We were upon them before they\ncould get out of the way. The torches glimmering through the trees\nblinded the eyes of the White-haired Master, so that he drew rein a\nlittle too late to stop me near the group of men standing there. One of\nthem, the son of the man called Old Grizzly, tried to dodge out of the\nway, but as he dodged I swerved to one side, and so struck him fairly on\nthe shoulder. He went down as if a tree had fallen on him. As I turned\nagain I caught the arm of one of them in my teeth, and carried him with\nme, screaming like a woman. From that day to this I have been called the\nMan-eater; but as to eating a man\u2014Blibbelibbel\u2014it makes me sick to think\nof it!\n\n\u201cI was still jumping, but trying to come to a halt, when the White-haired\nMaster drove his heels at me, and whirled me around on my hind feet as\non a pivot. As I turned I saw why. The man called the Teacher had been\nsitting on a horse, his arms tied, and a rope around his neck, one end\nfastened to the limb of a tree. As we came up, some of the men had given\nthe horse a cut with a hickory, and he had jumped away, leaving the\nTeacher swinging by the neck.\n\n\u201cWith one stroke of a knife he carried, the White-haired Master cut the\nrope, and then he leaped nimbly from my back and lifted the man called\nthe Teacher to his feet, cutting the rope from his arms and from his neck.\n\n\u201cThe man called the Teacher was neither much hurt nor frightened, but he\nwas weak. So he leaned against me as I stood panting for breath. There\nthe White-haired Master left him and turned his attention to the men who\nwere standing around. He called them murderers and assassins and cowards,\nbut they made little or no reply. The Son of Old Grizzly, who was rubbing\nhis shoulder, made some kind of excuse. He said he thought anybody had a\nright to hang anybody else who was trying to make the negroes rise and\nkill their masters.\n\n[Illustration: THE WHITE-HAIRED MASTER CUT THE ROPE]\n\n\u201cBut the man called the Teacher hit the saddle he was leaning against\nso hard with his fist that it made me jump, and said it was a lie. He\ndeclared that he had told the negroes to be patient, that thousands of\ngood people were praying for them, and that the time would come when they\nwould be free.\n\n\u201c\u2018What do I care what he told the negroes?\u2019 cried the White-haired\nMaster, turning upon the men. \u2018Don\u2019t you know, you cowardly wretches,\nthat I will protect whoever lives under my roof with my life? Take\nyourselves off, and be glad that you have escaped so lightly. I know all\nof you, and I\u2019ll have an eye on you hereafter.\u2019 So said the White-haired\nMaster; and the men, making what excuses they could think of, slunk away\nto where they had left their horses tied.\n\n\u201cSeeing the Gray Mare, my sister, standing near, I looked around for the\nSon of Ben Ali, but he was nowhere to be seen. I knew he was not far off.\nHe was waiting till the men should get out of sight. Then he came forth\nfrom the bushes, and in the dark, lifted the man called the Teacher to\nthe back of the Gray Mare, my sister.\n\n\u201cAnd so we went back home, going slowly, the man called the Teacher\nriding the Gray Mare, my sister, and the Son of Ben Ali walking\nalongside to hold him in place should his strength fail.\n\n\u201cThat is all. I saw no more of the Son of Ben Ali until after the big\nfire.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen the house was burned?\u201d asked Buster John.\n\n\u201cThe big house\u2014yes,\u201d replied the Black Stallion.\n\n\u201cThat was the time you broke down your stable door,\u201d suggested Aaron, who\nwas working away inside the stable.\n\n\u201cAnd came near catching the son of Old Grizzly, as he went over the\nfence,\u201d said the Black Stallion.\n\n\u201cMr. George Gossett?\u201d exclaimed Buster John. \u201cWhy, he\u2019s an old man.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s older than he\u2019s good,\u201d remarked Aaron.\n\n\u201cI heard a great noise,\u201d said the Black Stallion\u2014\u201cthe cows asking the\nmules what the trouble was, the mules asking the horses, and the geese\nscreaming and flying about\u2014and so I broke down my stable door. Just then\nI saw some one running through the field away from the house, and I tried\nto catch him. He was too near the fence, but I saw it was the son of Old\nGrizzly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy was he running through the field?\u201d inquired Buster John.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Aaron, \u201cthere was a fire burning the house, and there was\nthis George Gossett running away. You can put the two together, if you\nwant to, or you can leave them just as the Grandson of Abdallah saw\nthem\u2014one burning the house and the other running away.\u201d\n\n\u201cHuh! he sot dat house afire!\u201d exclaimed Drusilla; \u201ckaze I hear my mammy\nan\u2019 ol\u2019 Aunt Free Polly sesso.\u201d\n\nAll this made Sweetest Susan open her eyes in amazement, and they were\nvery bright and beautiful eyes.\n\n\u201cOh, how could he be so cruel?\u201d she cried.\n\n\u201cHe thought the White-haired Master rode him down that night on purpose,\u201d\nsaid Aaron, \u201cand he had a good many other thoughts.\u201d\n\nThe Black Stallion galloped to another part of the field, and Aaron said\nit was time for the children to go to the house and fix for dinner. So\nthey went running along.\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\nFREE POLLY\u2019S STORY.\n\n\nIt was not long before the children had an appointment to see Free Polly.\nShe had chosen their father for her guardian, and was in the habit of\nvisiting the plantation very often, sometimes staying there for weeks at\na time.\n\nFree Polly was sixty years old, but very frisky and fond of fun\u2014always\nready to listen to a joke or tell a story. All her stories were older\nthan she was, but she never told one without laughing at it just as\nheartily as if she had heard it for the first time. She bowed her head\nfrom side to side in jaunty fashion, and laughed loudly. The children\nlaughed, too, for she made a very comical appearance. She had on a yellow\nbasque with flowing sleeves, and a blue skirt. On her head she wore a\nflaming red bandana, and on top of that a bonnet shaped like a sugar\nscoop and stuffed full of faded artificial flowers. At sixty years old\nFree Polly still considered herself a belle, and put on a great many\nairs. Whenever she met anybody, black or white, she always bowed her\nhead, first to the left, then to the right, and made a low curtsy. This\nshe did now when the children called her. She bowed and curtsied, and\nthen placed her arms akimbo, and waited for the youngsters to come up.\n\n\u201cOh, I so glad to see you,\u201d she cried, \u201cI can\u2019t tell you how glad I is.\nYou mos\u2019 done grown. \u2019Fo\u2019 I know it you\u2019ll be done grown an\u2019 married.\nHey-hey! You nee\u2019n ter laugh. I done see young people \u2019fo\u2019 I see you. Dey\nmos\u2019 all do dat away.\u201d\n\n\u201cAunt Polly,\u201d said Buster John, \u201cdo you remember the night the big house\nburned?\u201d\n\nFree Polly ceased laughing and screwed up her mouth and face in pretended\nindignation.\n\n\u201cHow I gwine ter fergit it? Wa\u2019n\u2019t I right dar in de house? Right un\u2019 de\nroofness?\u201d\n\n\u201cWon\u2019t you please tell us about it?\u201d asked Sweetest Susan, with her\npretty, coaxing smile.\n\nFree Polly shook her head solemnly, closed her eyes, and heaved a deep\nsigh.\n\n\u201cHow kin I tell you stan\u2019in\u2019 up here flat-footed in de sun? Wait. I\ncomin\u2019 in de house atter supper to see Mistiss. When you see me in dar,\nrun an\u2019 ax me to come in yo\u2019 room \u2019fo\u2019 I go. But when I go in dar I\nmus\u2019 fin\u2019 sump\u2019n else \u2019sides a cheer, an\u2019 a table, an\u2019 a bedstid, an\u2019 a\nwashstan\u2019.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you want to find?\u201d Buster John inquired.\n\nAgain Free Polly closed her eyes and sighed, as she answered:\u2014\n\n\u201cWhat I want to fin\u2019? Biscuit. Battercakes. Butter. Ham.\u201d At each word\nFree Polly smacked her lips and opened her mouth wide. The children\nlaughed, and promised that they would carry as much food into the nursery\nas they could make an excuse for.\n\nAt supper their mother saw them buttering more biscuits than they usually\nate. So she suddenly asked:\u2014\n\n\u201cHas any one seen Free Polly to-day?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes\u2019m,\u201d promptly replied Drusilla, who was waiting on Buster John and\nSweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cIs she coming here to-night?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2014I speck so,\u201d Drusilla answered somewhat doubtfully.\n\nAt this the mother looked at the children and laughed.\n\n\u201cMamma, how did you know?\u201d cried Sweetest Susan.\n\n\u201cBecause she used to come to see me when I was a little girl, and I\nalways had to carry biscuits and ham to my room, if I wanted her to tell\nme a tale. Drusilla, put those biscuits and three slices of ham on a\nplate, and carry it to the nursery.\u201d\n\nNaturally the children were delighted at the way their mother fell\ninto their innocent little plans, and they waited with a good deal of\nimpatience for Free Polly to come. She came after what seemed to be a\nvery long while. She was even more comically polite in the house than\nshe was out of doors, and pretended to have a good deal to say to the\n\u201cMistiss;\u201d but the lady said she was busy at that moment, and told Free\nPolly to go into the nursery and see the children.\n\nThus it came about that Buster John and Sweetest Susan heard all the\nparticulars of the burning of the big house, told in a style that was to\nthem the most graphic and complete that could be imagined.\n\nAfter eating the supper that had been brought in for her, Free Polly\nwiped her mouth with the back of her hands, placed her heels on the top\nround of the chair she sat in, and clasped her knees with her long arms.\nThen closing her eyes, she began:\n\n\u201cI dunner how come it, but when de sun shine it look like a long time\nago when de house burn. When night come, it look like it done happen\nyistiddy. It so come \u2019bout dat I hatter come see ol\u2019 Marster dat ve\u2019y\nnight. I start from de place whar I been workin\u2019 time de sun go down, an\u2019\nwhen I come to turn in de big gate up yander, twuz gittin dark. I raise\nde latch er de big gate, I did, an\u2019 den I say ter myse\u2019f, \u2018No, I won\u2019t go\nde front way, kaze dey might be comp\u2019ny in de front peazzer, an\u2019 I\u2019ll go\nroun\u2019 de back way an\u2019 come in by de nigger quarter.\u2019 I had my min\u2019 on dat\nar man what dey like ter hang\u2014dat ar Mr. Hudspy\u201d\u2014\n\n\u201cHudspeth,\u201d said Buster John.\n\n\u201cKaze he gimme a sev\u2019m-punce one time, an\u2019 I wuz mighty sorry he had\nto go back home. I walk \u2019long, I did, an\u2019 I \u2019low I mighty sorry dat ar\nMr. Hudspy ain\u2019t here now, kaze he might fergit hissif an\u2019 gimme a n\u2019er\nsev\u2019m-punce.\u2019 Des \u2019bout dat time I look up an\u2019 look \u2019round, an\u2019 right at\nme wuz a man. I could \u2019a\u2019 put out my han\u2019 an\u2019 totch him. Ef he\u2019d \u2019a\u2019\nsaid \u2018Boo!\u2019 at me, I\u2019d \u2019a\u2019 drapt right in my tracks. But I bowed, I did,\nan\u2019 drapt him a curtsy, an\u2019 ax\u2019d him howdy.\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018Ain\u2019t dat Free Polly?\u2019 I say, \u2018Yasser.\u2019 I know\u2019d time he open\nhis mouth dat \u2019t\u2019wan\u2019t nobody in de roun\u2019 worl\u2019 but dat ar George Gossett.\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018I got a crow to pick wid you.\u2019 I say, \u2018How come dat, suh?\u2019\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018You been harborin\u2019 runaway niggers.\u2019 I say, \u2018I don\u2019t see how I\nkin do dat, suh, when it\u2019s e\u2019enabout all I kin do fer ter harbor myse\u2019f,\nlet \u2019lone runaway niggers.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018I hear tell you es des han\u2019 in glove wid dat ar nigger A\u2019on\nwhat Pap bought fum de speculator.\u2019 I say, \u2018Ef A\u2019on ever is been at my\nhouse, suh, it wuz unbeknownst to me.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018Nummine. I\u2019ll git you yit; an\u2019 when I does, hit\u2019ll be all night\nIsom dar wid you.\u2019 I say, \u2018Yasser,\u2019 and den I bowed perlite ez I know\nhow, an\u2019 come on to de big house.\n\n\u201cI ain\u2019t been here long, \u2019fo\u2019 dey tell me dat de Little Marster\u2014which dey\ncall him Little Crotchet\u2014is sorter ailin\u2019, an\u2019 I say ter myse\u2019f dat I\u2019ll\ngo up sta\u2019rs dar whar he stay at, an\u2019 see him. So, atter while, up I\ngoes, an\u2019 sho\u2019 nuff, dar wuz de Little Marster layin\u2019 up dar readin\u2019.\n\n\u201cHe put down his book, he did, an\u2019 look like he mighty glad ter see me,\nan\u2019 he ax me what good fer deze here long-time pains in de legs; an\u2019 I\nsay I dunno, \u2019cep\u2019n you have somebody to rub \u2019em. He ax me ef I won\u2019t rub\n\u2019em; an\u2019 I say tooby-shore I will, an\u2019 glad to do it, an\u2019 den I whirled\nin an\u2019 rub \u2019em; an\u2019 whiles I\u2019m a-rubbin\u2019 he ax me de names er all de\npresidencies er de Nunitin\u2019 States whar we live at, an\u2019 I say ef I ever\nknow\u2019d \u2019em I done fergitted \u2019em off\u2019en my min\u2019. Desso.\n\n\u201cAn\u2019 den, bless yo\u2019 souls, he lay dar flat er his back, an\u2019 call off de\nnames er all de presidencies er de Nunitin\u2019 States same ez ef he had \u2019em\nright dar in a book, an\u2019 den when he done dat he tol\u2019 me all \u2019bout John\nHenry Bonaparte an\u2019 Mr. Benjamin Arnold, which he traded off his country\nfer a pa\u2019r er shiny boots an\u2019 a cocked hat.\u201d\n\nBuster John and Sweetest Susan laughed heartily at this, and Free Polly\nlaughed in sympathy.\n\n\u201cYes, honey, he lay dar flat er his back an\u2019 tol\u2019 me all de news. I\ndunner how long I sot dar, rubbin\u2019 an\u2019 noddin\u2019, an\u2019 lis\u2019nin\u2019 ter de\nLittle Marster, tellin\u2019 me all \u2019bout how de Nunitin\u2019 State of Americus,\nGeorgy, come up, an\u2019 how he wuz skeer\u2019d she wuz gwine down agin ef de\nfolks up dar whar dey make laws did\u2019n\u2019 stop scandalizin\u2019 an\u2019 gwine on. I\nspeck both un us must er drapt off ter sleep, kaze when I waked up, de\ncandle had done burnted mos\u2019 down. Bimeby de Little Marster say, \u2018Polly\nAnn\u2019\u2014he call me Polly Ann fer short\u2014\u2018Polly Ann, I smell smoke. What does\nyou smell?\u2019\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018I smells smoke, too. I speck somebody burnin\u2019 off a new groun\u2019.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018Polly Ann, dis ain\u2019t de time er de year when dey burns off de\nnew groun\u2019.\u2019\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018Maybe somebody possum huntin\u2019 drapt der torch an\u2019 sot fire to de\nwoods.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018Polly Ann, dis ain\u2019t de time er de year when dey hunts possums.\u2019\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018I dunner how come it den.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018All de same, Polly Ann, I smells smoke.\u2019\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018Dat what Brer Fox say when Brer Rabbit put fire ter de hay what\nhe totin\u2019 on his back.\u2019\n\n\u201cDe Little Marster say, \u2018Polly Ann, maybe somebody done put fire ter de\nhay what we got on our backs.\u2019\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018I ain\u2019t skeer\u2019d er dat.\u2019\n\n\u201cDis make him laugh. He say, \u2018Polly Ann, folks don\u2019t hafter be skeer\u2019d\nter git burnted up.\u2019\u201d\n\nAt this point Free Polly suddenly became very solemn. A heavy frown\nappeared on her face. Her voice fell to a tragic whisper. She placed one\nhand lightly on Sweetest Susan\u2019s shoulder and held the other to a gesture\nof warning, looking all around the room as if expecting to discover the\nbeginning or the ending of some horrible catastrophe.\n\n\u201cRight dar an den,\u201d she said, \u201cI not only smelt de smoke, I seed it. Seed\nit wid my own eyes. Yes, honey! A little streak un it, not much bigger\ndan a pipestem, come curlin\u2019 up by de candle an\u2019 went dancin\u2019 up ter\nde ceilin\u2019. Den\u2019 way off yander, I hear somebody holler. Den somebody\nholler\u2019d mo\u2019 closer. Den de cows \u2019gun ter low, an\u2019 de hosses ter whicker.\n\n\u201cI say ter myse\u2019f, \u2018Nigger \u2019oman, you better keep yo\u2019 eye peeled, kaze\nsump\u2019n n\u2019er gwine on, an\u2019 \u2019tain\u2019t so mighty fur fum here, needer.\u2019 Den I\nhear somebody holler right out in de lot dar.\n\n\u201cDe Little Marster say, \u2018Polly Ann, I tell you I smells smoke. Hit\u2019s\nright off\u2019n de fire.\u2019\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018I b\u2019lieve you, honey.\u2019\n\n\u201cBy dis time, de fuss outside wuz gittin\u2019 wuss an\u2019 wuss, an\u2019 I could hear\nsomep\u2019n cracklin\u2019 like somebody walkin\u2019 thoo a patch er ragweed in de\nwinter time. It look like de little candle got mo\u2019 paler, an\u2019 den it seem\nlike I could see shadders dancin\u2019 on de wall. Den I happen to look up at\nde window, an\u2019, man, suh, de whole place wuz lit up.\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018Hey! ef de sun done riz up in de night, she shinin\u2019 mighty red.\u2019\nDe smoke keep on curlin\u2019 up an\u2019 curlin\u2019 up. It cum thoo de crack er de\nflo\u2019.\n\n\u201cDe Little Marster say, \u2018De smoke smell so bad, I got ter put my head un\u2019\nde cover.\u2019\n\n\u201cI say to myse\u2019f, \u2018Look a-here, nigger \u2019oman, you better be up an\u2019 gwine,\nkaze when you see de smoke comin\u2019 up thoo de floor you better watch out.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019d \u2019a\u2019 gone down dem stairsteps faster\u2019n I come up,\u201d exclaimed Drusilla.\n\n\u201cEf you had,\u201d said Free Polly, scornfully, \u201cyou\u2019d \u2019a\u2019 never gone down any\nyuther steps\u2014an\u2019 dat would \u2019a\u2019 been des like a nigger fer de worl\u2019. I\nain\u2019t run down no steps. I des sot dar an\u2019 sorter pat de Little Marster\non de leg fer ter keep him comp\u2019ny, an\u2019 de smoke kep\u2019 on comin\u2019 wusser\nan\u2019 wusser. I say to myse\u2019f, \u2018Watch out, nigger \u2019oman! Watch out!\u2019\n\n\u201cDen I \u2019gun to strangle, an\u2019 I went ter de window, an\u2019 des \u2019bout dat time\nI hear mo\u2019 squallin\u2019 an\u2019 fussin\u2019 dan I ever been hear befo\u2019, an\u2019 time I\ngot ter de window somebody smash it in, an\u2019 I des give one big squeal an\u2019\ndrapt on de flo\u2019.\n\n\u201cNow, dat ar somebody wuz A\u2019on. He clum de tree, he did, an\u2019 smash in de\nwindow, an\u2019 he wrop de Little Marster in de quilts an\u2019 coverleds what he\nhad on him, an\u2019 toted him down de tree on one arm, an\u2019 den he come back\nan\u2019 toted me.\n\n\u201cWhen we got down, dar wuz a big crowd stannin\u2019 \u2019round, an\u2019 ol\u2019 Marster\nwuz a-cryin\u2019, an\u2019 A\u2019on put me down an\u2019 went up in de crowd, an\u2019 when he\ngot dar he fell down like he wuz dead. When he smash in de window, de\nglass cut him in de arm an\u2019 in de face an\u2019 he wuz bloodier dan a stuck\npig. So dar he wuz, an\u2019 dar he lay. He des shet his eyes an\u2019 fell back\nlike he done dead.\n\n[Illustration: AARON TOTED HIM DOWN DE TREE]\n\n\u201cYes, honey! dar he wuz right in de middle of a big crowd. All de\nniggers wuz dar fum five mile \u2019roun\u2019, an\u2019 mighty nigh all de white folks\nwuz dar. Ol\u2019 Mr. Gossett wuz dar wid his eyelids red, an\u2019 lookin\u2019 like\ndey been turn wrongsudout\u2019ards. He walk up, he did, an\u2019 \u2019low\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Aha! If I ain\u2019t mighty much mistaken, dat\u2019s my nigger, A\u2019on. A\u2019on, \u2019git\nup fum\u2019 dar, you gran\u2019 rascal.\u2019\n\n\u201cBut A\u2019on ain\u2019t move. He des lay dar like he dead. Ol\u2019 Mr. Gossett knelt\ndown by \u2019im, an\u2019 put his han\u2019 on him, an\u2019 felt \u2019im like de doctors does.\nDen he riz up an\u2019 look at A\u2019on long time, an\u2019 den he shuck his head. He\nshuck his head, an\u2019 turn roun\u2019 an\u2019 holler to Ol\u2019 Marster:\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Jedge, once \u2019pon a time I hear you say you want to buy dis nigger.\nWhat\u2019ll you gimme fer \u2019im des ez he is?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Twelve hundred dollars!\u2019 Ol\u2019 Marster holler\u2019d back. He talk short an\u2019\nsharp, like he talkin\u2019 to a fiel\u2019 han\u2019.\n\n\u201cOl\u2019 Mr. Gossett holler back, \u2018Done!\u2019\n\n\u201cDen Ol\u2019 Marster, bidout movin\u2019 in his tracks, tuck a long book out er\nhis side pocket, an\u2019 pulled out five bills an\u2019 sont um to Mr. Gossett by\none er de niggers.\n\n\u201cHe say, \u2018Dat\u2019s a hunderd fer ter make de trade bindin\u2019. Meet me in town\nter-morrer, an\u2019 I\u2019ll pay you de rest.\u2019\n\n\u201cOl\u2019 Mr. Gossett say, \u2018But, Jedge, s\u2019posin\u2019 de nigger is dead now?\u2019\n\n\u201cOl\u2019 Marster snap \u2019im short off: \u2018A trade\u2019s a trade. You stan\u2019 by yone,\nan\u2019 I\u2019ll stan\u2019 by mine.\u2019\n\n\u201cMr. Gossett say, \u2018Oh, I\u2019ll stan\u2019 by mine, Jedge. De nigger is yone,\n\u2019live or dead.\u2019\n\n\u201cIt look like ter me,\u201d continued Free Polly, shifting her position and\ntalking in a less solemn tone, \u201cdat A\u2019on must \u2019a\u2019 been playin\u2019 possum.\nKaze time he hear ol\u2019 Mr. Gossett say dat, he open his eyes an\u2019 riz up\nfum whar he wuz layin\u2019 at. He walk sorter weak, but he wa\u2019n\u2019t hurted\nmuch. He got up an\u2019 went whar dey had de Little Marster, an\u2019 fum dat time\non, de two stuck mighty close by one anudder. Whar you\u2019d see one, you\u2019d\nbe mighty apt to see de udder. It was dat away all de time, fum Monday\nmornin\u2019 twell Sat\u2019day night.\n\n\u201cDe Little Marster \u2019gun ter git well an\u2019 strong. Some say he grow\u2019d an\u2019\ngot fatter. I can\u2019t tell you \u2019bout dat. He allers look mighty pale an\u2019\npuny ter me, but dey ain\u2019t no \u2019sputin\u2019 dat he got \u2019roun\u2019 on his crutches\nmo\u2019 soopler. He wuz ez nimble on dem crutches ez a game rooster is on his\nlegs.\n\n[Illustration: DE SQUINCH OWL LIGHTED ON A\u2019ON\u2019S HAND]\n\n\u201c\u2019Twa\u2019n\u2019t long atter dat \u2019fo\u2019 de niggers on de place wuz all fear\u2019d er\nA\u2019on. Dey seed all de creeturs a-follerin\u2019 \u2019im \u2019bout, an\u2019 dey got it\nspread \u2019roun\u2019 dat he wuz a cunjer-man, one er deze yer hoodoo folks what\nputs spells on you. Den dey got it spread \u2019roun\u2019 dat he want no nigger,\nkaze he don\u2019t do like niggers. I didn\u2019t blame \u2019em much fer bein\u2019 skeer\u2019d,\nkaze one day, des atter sundown, I happen to see A\u2019on lookin\u2019 up in de\nbig pine out dar in de lot. I hear a squinch owl holler, an\u2019 den I hear\nA\u2019on say sump\u2019n. Time he do dat I see de squinch owl drap fum de top er\nde pine an\u2019 light right on A\u2019on\u2019s han\u2019. De bird sot dar, he did, an\u2019 pop\nhis bill like a waggin whip, an\u2019 den he up an\u2019 flew\u2019d away. He come right\nby my head, an\u2019 it\u2019s Lord\u2019s trufe, he ain\u2019t make no mo\u2019 fuss dan a fedder\nfloatin\u2019 on de win\u2019.\n\n\u201cI wuz sorter skeer\u2019d, but I walk right up to A\u2019on an\u2019 say, \u2018Man, who is\nyou, an\u2019 what is you?\u2019\n\n\u201cHe turns \u2019roun\u2019 an\u2019 say, \u2018De Son of Ben Ali.\u2019\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018Thanky. I know mos\u2019 ez much now ez I did befo\u2019.\u2019\n\n\u201cDen he say, \u2018Le\u2019 me show you.\u2019 Wid dat he holler, an\u2019 de black hoss\nanswer him. He holler agin, an\u2019 de gray mar\u2019 whicker. He holler once mo\u2019,\nan\u2019 de pony come a runnin\u2019 an\u2019 a whinnyin\u2019.\n\n\u201cI say, \u2018Man, le\u2019 me go \u2019way fum here. I done hear talk er Ben Ali long\n\u2019fo\u2019 I seed you.\u2019\u201d\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\nTHE ARMY MARCHES BY.\n\n\nIt was not long before the children saw another sight on that plantation.\nThey forgot all about Mr. Thimblefinger and Mrs. Meadows and Mr. Rabbit.\nThey forgot to talk to the animals. The war had been under way for some\ntime, and one rainy day in November word came that two soldiers in blue\nhad been seen riding along the road at a gallop. That was early in the\nmorning. By noon the plantation fairly swarmed with the foragers in blue.\nThe Union army was on its way from Atlanta to the sea.\n\nStanding at the window and looking through the mist and rain, Buster\nJohn and Sweetest Susan could see the foraging parties running about\ncollecting the cows and calves, the horses and the mules, and presently\nthey saw the same men in blue driving the stock out through the avenue\nand into the public road. Sweetest Susan cried when she saw the old Gray\nPony ambling along with the rest, but Buster John never thought about\nthe Pony at all. He was watching to see the Black Stallion pass by, and\nwondering how the men would manage him.\n\nThe children also saw many of the negroes following the soldiers off.\nThey saw Aaron dressed in his Sunday best, and they wondered whether he\nwas going with the rest. But after awhile they heard Aaron talking to\ntheir grandfather in the next room. They heard him say that he had tried\nto hide the horses and mules in the swamp, but some of the negroes had\ncarried the foragers in blue to the hiding-place. They heard Aaron say\nthat he had carried Timoleon to another part of the plantation, and that\nthe old horse was not likely to be found. They heard their grandfather\ntell Aaron that he was now free to go where he might\u2014that he was no\nlonger a slave. To which Aaron replied that if he was free to go or stay,\nhe would stay.\n\n[Illustration: TWO SOLDIERS RODE ALONG]\n\nA little later the children, still standing at the window, or near it,\nheard a great clatter of hoofs in the avenue, mingled with the lowing of\ncattle, the neighing of horses, and the shouts and yells of drivers. At\nfirst Buster John and Sweetest Susan, looking through the mist, could\nsee nothing but a dense and moving mass of animals and men. But in a\nfew moments they were surprised to see that the foragers in blue were\nbringing back the horses and cattle they had driven off. There was the\nold pony, ambling back to the lot; there were the carriage horses; and\nthere were the milk cows and dry cattle. Accompanying the foragers, who\nwere on foot, were two or three mounted men, and one of these wore a\nsword and was giving orders.\n\nThe grandfather, attracted by the children\u2019s cries of surprise, had come\nto the window, and he stood there gazing at the spectacle in a bewildered\nway. It was more surprising to him than it was to the children. He could\nmake nothing of it. He could only rub his eyes and look. Here were his\nhorses, his mules, and his cattle coming back in a hurry, driven by the\nsoldiers in blue. He went to the rear porch to see what would be done\nwith the stock, and there, to his further surprise, he saw a soldier\non guard. The soldier saluted the white-haired old man with the utmost\ndeference, standing at \u201cpresent arms\u201d until the gentleman, somewhat rusty\nin military etiquette, had returned the salute. Then the soldier resumed\nhis march back and forth.\n\nLooking across to the lot, the old gentleman saw Aaron showing the\nforagers where to put the horses, the mules, and the cows, and with Aaron\nwere two or three negroes who had refused to go off with the rest.\n\n\u201cWhat is the trouble here?\u201d the old gentleman asked the soldier. \u201cAre we\nprisoners?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d replied the soldier, laughing; \u201cwe are here to protect this\nhouse from the foragers and stragglers. I was thinkin\u2019 may be you\u2019re some\nclose kin to Uncle Cump.\u201d\n\n\u201cUncle who?\u201d\n\n\u201cUncle Cump, Cump\u2014Tecump. We march by that name.\u201d\n\nThe white-haired gentleman, regarding this as a soldier\u2019s joke, went\ninto the house. The children, still at the window, called attention to\na soldier marching back and forth. Going on the front piazza, he saw a\nsoldier marching on that side, and but for the garden fence doubtless\nthere would have been a fourth soldier marching behind the kitchen.\n\nLater in the afternoon a squad of riders came galloping down the avenue.\nThey drew up their horses at the yard gate, and one of them alighted,\nthrowing his reins to one of the others. The children ran into the front\nparlor and peeped through the curtains. The soldier who had come into\nthe yard had neither gun nor sword. He wore a heavy overcoat, and his\nspurs rattled as he stamped the mud and water from his boots. He removed\nhis overcoat, lifted the knocker on the door and let it fall twice, and\nthen walked back and forth on the piazza, with a quick, nervous step. He\nseemed to be restless and impatient.\n\nThe children\u2019s grandfather went to the door and threw it open. The\nsoldier lifted his hat with a gesture that was more familiar than\ndeferential.\n\n\u201cCome in, sir,\u201d said the grandfather. \u201cWe do not keep the door closed\neven on our enemies.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am here,\u201d remarked the soldier, curtly, \u201cbecause I have a message for\nthis house.\u201d\n\nHe had a quick, nervous way of talking, and his eyes ran from the carpet\non the floor to the pictures on the wall. One of these pictures was the\nportrait of a little boy, pale and wan, and the top of a crutch peeped\nfrom behind his shoulder. On this portrait the eyes of the soldier\nlingered, and he turned to it with a quick gesture. The children\u2019s\ngrandfather stood watching him. The old gentleman\u2019s attitude was stiff\nand formal, and there was an expression of resentment on his face, for he\nrecognized that the commander, the General of the Army of invasion, stood\nbefore him.\n\nAs for the soldier, his stiff red beard bristled, the lines in his\nweather-beaten face deepened, and his eyes sparkled. If he had noticed\nthe attitude or expression of the other he ignored it.\n\n\u201cThat is Little Crotchet,\u201d he said, brusquely. \u201cWhere is he?\u201d\n\nThe face of the children\u2019s grandfather softened and his whole attitude\nchanged.\n\n\u201cLittle Crotchet is not here now,\u201d he replied. He turned and walked to\nthe window, which seemed to be blurred by the mist and the rain blown\nagainst it by the east wind.\n\nThe commander took a quick step forward and placed his hand gently on the\ngrandfather\u2019s shoulder.\n\n\u201cI am sorry,\u201d he said. \u201cI have a message for Little Crotchet.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: HIS EYES LINGERED ON THE PORTRAIT]\n\n\u201cIf my son had lived,\u201d remarked the children\u2019s grandfather, by way of\nexplanation, \u201che would be a grown man. As it is, he is still a little\nboy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is curious, too,\u201d said the commander. \u201cSince I heard of him, I have\nalways thought of him as a little bit of a chap. Something like that.\u201d He\nturned to the portrait on the wall almost impatiently.\n\n\u201cI am forgetting myself,\u201d said the children\u2019s grandfather, holding out\nhis hand, which the soldier seized and pressed in his quick, nervous way.\n\u201cSit in this rocking-chair near the hearth and dry yourself. You and I\nare old acquaintances. Years ago you passed through this part of the\ncountry on horseback, and stopped here over night.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is so,\u201d replied the commander. \u201cI was just beginning the business\nof life. You had already begun it.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo some extent. I was ahead of you, then, just as you have now\noutstripped me in the business of dealing out death and destruction.\u201d\n\nThe commander rose from his chair quick as a flash, and again placed his\nhand on the old gentleman\u2019s shoulder.\n\n\u201cMy dear sir,\u201d he said, \u201cthis is war, and war is the most serious\nbusiness that men can engage in.\u201d\n\nHe resumed his seat as suddenly as he had left it, throwing one leg\nacross the other with an easy familiarity that was not at all displeasing\nto the elder man.\n\n\u201cYou would think war was my business,\u201d remarked the commander, after a\npause, during which his keen, restless eyes tried to solve the mysteries\nof the glowing coals; \u201cbut it is not. I am a school teacher. I had rather\nbe yonder in Mississippi, training my college boys, than to be leading\nthis army. But war is the price of union and peace, and here I am. Where\nis Aaron?\u201d\n\n\u201cAaron?\u201d The question was so sudden and unexpected that the children\u2019s\ngrandfather was taken by surprise.\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t that the name of some queer negro you owned?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly. I will call him,\u201d replied the grandfather.\n\nAt that moment there was a rap at the door, and Aaron opened it. He bowed\nas he saw the uniformed and booted stranger, and then proceeded to make\nhis report. He told his master that all the horses, mules, and cattle had\nbeen brought back, and some more besides. He stood, half smiling, in an\neasy and yet an expectant attitude.\n\n\u201cThis is Aaron,\u201d said the commander. \u201cI must take him by the hand.\u201d He\nstepped across the floor with arm extended and clasped Aaron\u2019s hand in\nhis. \u201cYou are a good man, Aaron,\u201d he remarked, \u201ca good man. I want to\nread you something.\u201d\n\nThe commander fumbled in the breast pocket of his coat and drew forth a\nhuge morocco memorandum book. From this he took a letter.\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d he said, \u201cwas sent to me in cipher from the War Department at\nWashington. I have had it translated and written out. Do you remember a\nman named Hudspeth?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly,\u201d said the old gentleman.\n\n\u201cMighty well,\u201d said Aaron.\n\n\u201cWell, this man, Richard Hudspeth, is one of the most influential members\nof Congress. He is on the Military Committee of the House. Here is what\nhe says:\n\n    \u201cDEAR GENERAL,\u2014As a member of the Committee on Military\n    Affairs, it has come to my ears that you will before long swing\n    loose from Atlanta and march across Georgia, either to Savannah\n    or Augusta. Should my information be correct, I have a favor to\n    ask of you. It is this: that, so far as is consistent with your\n    duties as a soldier, you will protect the lives and property of\n    the people whom you may find on the Abercrombie place in Middle\n    Georgia. You cannot miss the place. Whether you go to Savannah\n    or Augusta, it will be in your line of march. It is in the very\n    heart of Georgia, and is known far and wide.\n\n    \u201cI am not sure that the people I knew are living there now;\n    but I am very sure that I spent some very happy and some very\n    miserable days there. It was in the days of the years of my\n    youth, and I should have been more miserable still but for the\n    kindness of the people on that place.\n\n    \u201cMore than that, I owe them my life, which at one time I was on\n    the point of losing at the hands of some of the neighborhood\n    ruffians. Some day when we meet in Washington you shall have\n    the particulars.\n\n    \u201cYou will find on that place, I trust\u2014though he seemed too\n    frail to live long\u2014a youngster known as Little Crotchet. Say\n    to him that I shall love him tenderly while life lasts. I hope\n    you will also find there the kindly gentleman to whose patience\n    and courtesy I owe many a pleasant hour. I hope, too, you will\n    find Aaron there\u2014Aaron the fugitive, who was and who remains a\n    mystery.\n\n    \u201cFor the sake of these people and for the sake of old times, I\n    venture to ask you to surround the place with such protection\n    as may be consistent with duties which at this distance I can\n    only have a vague conception of.\n\n    \u201cMeanwhile, the few of us who have had hints of the adventure\n    you are about to undertake are trembling with fear and hope.\n    We confide in your genius, but we should be happier if we had\n    already heard from you at the end of your journey.\n\n                           \u201cFaithfully yours,\n\n                                                 \u201cRICHARD HUDSPETH.\u201d\n\nThe children\u2019s grandfather gazed steadily in the fire without moving.\nThe commander placed the letter in his pocket, and rose from his chair,\npushing it away from him impatiently.\n\n\u201cAnd this is Aaron?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cYes, sir,\u201d replied Aaron.\n\n\u201cWell, Aaron, I want to shake your hand again.\u201d\n\nAaron took the proffered hand and bowed his head over it, as if giving\nsilent utterance to a prayer. The commander gave his hand to the\nWhite-haired Master, passed out upon the veranda, and so to where he had\nleft his orderlies. He leaped into the saddle, turned and waved an adieu,\nand then the small cavalcade went clattering up the avenue.\n\nSomewhere in the distance Buster John and Sweetest Susan heard a band\nplaying a sweet tune, and so War passed out of their sight\u2014passed\nout of their sight, let us hope, forever. But it should be recorded\nhere that the spectacle of these slow-moving files of armed men, this\nvast procession of cavalry and artillery, with all their lumbering\naccompaniments, was far more amazing to these children than anything they\nhad seen and heard in Mr. Thimblefinger\u2019s queer country, or than any of\ntheir experience with the Son of Ben Ali.","title":"The story of Aaron (so named) the son of Ben Ali : $b Told by his friends and acquaintances","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":39786}