Part 16 (2/2)

Blue Dave rose from his stooping posture, steadied himself a moment, and then moved on with his living burden. He moved slowly and cautiously at first, but gradually increased his pace to a swinging walk that carried him forward with surprising swiftness.

To George Denham it all seemed like a dream. He suffered no pain, and it was with a sort of queer elation of mind that he felt the huge muscles of the negro swell and subside under him with the regularity of machinery, and knew that every movement carried him toward Kitty Kendrick and rest. He was strangely tired, but not otherwise uncomfortable. He felt abundantly grateful to this poor runaway negro, and thought that if he could overcome his mother's prejudices (she had a horror of runaway negroes) he would buy Blue Dave and make him comfortable. Thus they swung along until the negro's swift stride brought them to Mrs. Kendrick's gate. There Blue Dave deposited George Denham, and exclaimed with a laugh as he leaned against the fence--

”You'er right smart chunk er meat, Mars. George, ez sho ez de worl'!”

George Denham also leaned against the fence, but he didn't laugh. He was thinking of what seemed to him a very serious matter.

”Mother will be frightened to death when that horse gets home,” he said.

”You go in dar en get worn, Mars. George,” said Blue Dave. ”I'm gwine 'roun' by de High Bridge en tell um whar you is.”

”Why, you'll break yourself down,” said George Deuham.

”Ah, Lord, Mars. George!” said the negro, laughing, ”time you bin in de woods long ez I is de four mile 'twix' yer en yo' house'll look mighty short. Go in dar, Mars. George, 'fo' you git col'!”

Shortly after this, George Denham was in bed and fast asleep. He had been met at the door by Kitty Kendrick, in whose telltale face the blushes of that heartiest of all welcomes had chased away the pallor of dread and anxiety. Mrs. Kendrick was less sympathetic in word than in deed. She had known George Denham since he was a little boy in short clothes; and while she approved of him, and had a sort of motherly affection for him, she was disposed to be critical, as are most women who have the knack of management.

”And so you've come back dripping, have you? Well, you ain't the first head-strong, high-strung chap that's found out water is wet when the creek blots out the big road, I reckon. I'm no duck myself. When I see water, I'm like the old cat in the corner; I always feel like shaking my foot. Kitty, call Bob and tell him to make a fire in the big room.

He's asleep, I reckon, and you'll have to holler. Set a n.i.g.g.e.r down and he's snoring directly. You look pale,” Mrs. Kendrick continued, turning to George. ”You must have gone in over your ears. I should think a drenching like that would take all the conceit out of a man.”

”Well, it has taken it all out of me, ma'am,” said George, laughing.

Then the young man told Mrs. Kendrick of his misadventure, and of the part Blue Dave had borne in it.

”He's the n.i.g.g.e.r that roosted on top of my house,” said Mrs. Felix, bustling around and putting a kettle of water on the fire. ”Well, it's a roundabout way to pay for his lodging, but it's the best he could do, I reckon. Now, don't you worry yourself, George; in ten minutes you'll be snug in bed, and then you'll drink a cup of composition tea, and to-morrow morning you'll have forgotten all about trying to make a spring branch out of Murder Creek.”

As the successful mistress of a household, Mrs. Kendrick knew precisely what was necessary to be done. There was no hitch in her system, no delay in her methods, and no disputing her remedies. George Denham was ordered to bed as if he had been a child; and though the ”composition”

tea was hot in the month and bitter to the palate, it was useless to protest against it. As a consequence of all this, the young man was soon in the land of dreams.

When everything was quiet, Kitty prepared a very substantial lunch.

Then, calling her little brother Felix, she went across the yard to the quarters, and stopped at Uncle Manuel's cabin. The door was ajar, and Kitty could see the venerable old negro nodding before the flickering embers. She went in and called his name--

”Uncle Manuel!”

”Eh! Who dat?” Then, looking around and perceiving Kitty, the old negro's weather-beaten face shone with a broad smile of surprise and welcome. ”Why, honey! Why, little Mistiss! How come dis? You makes de ole n.i.g.g.e.r feel proud; dat you does. I fear'd ter ax you ter set down, honey, de cheer so rickety.”

”Uncle Manuel,” said Kitty, ”do you know Blue Dave?”

Uncle Manuel was old, and wise, and cunning. He hesitated a moment before replying, and even then his caution would not allow him to commit himself.

”Blue Dave, he's dat ar runaway n.i.g.g.e.r, ain't he, honey? I done year talk un 'im lots er times.”

”Well,” said Kitty, placing her basket upon Uncle Manuel's tool-chest, ”here is something for Blue Dave to eat. If you don't see him yourself, perhaps you can send it to him by some one.”

Uncle Manuel picked up the basket, weighed it in his hand, and then placed it on the chest again. Then he looked curiously at Kitty, and said--

”Honey, how come you gwine do dis? Ain't you year tell hit's ag'in de law fer ter feed a runaway n.i.g.g.e.r?”

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