Part 9 (2/2)
”Why, son!”
”Yes, sir. I've been tryin' for seven years to--k--own up, and----”
”Sev--O Law, son, I don't believe you eveh done it at all. You neveh so much as told a fib in yo' life. You jest imagine you done it.”
”Yes, I have father, often. I can't explain now, but please lemme go with you.”
”Why, son, I jest can't. Lawd knows I would if I could.”
”Yes, you can, father, I won't be in the way. And I won't be af-raid.
You don't think I would eveh be a-scared of a n.i.g.g.e.r, do you? But if the n.i.g.g.e.rs should kill you, and me not there, I wouldn't ever be any account no more! I haven't ever been any yet, but I will be, father, if you'll----”
Three pistol shots came from the town, and two townward-bound hors.e.m.e.n broke their trot and pa.s.sed at a gallop. ”Come on, Judge,” laughed one.
”I declare, son, I don't know what _toe_ do. You betteh go 'long back.”
”Oh, father, don't send me back! Lemme go 'long with you. Please don't send me back! I couldn't go. I'd just haf to turn round again an' follow you. Lemme go with you, father. I want to go 'long with you. Oh--thank you, sir!” They trotted down into the town. ”D' you reckon C'nelius 'll be there, father?--I--hope he will.” The pallor was gone.
As the turnpike became a tree-shaded street, they pa.s.sed briskly by its old-fas.h.i.+oned houses set deep in grove gardens. Two or three weedy lanes at right and left showed the poor cabins of the town's darker life shut and silent. But presently,
”Father, look there!”
The Judge and his son turned quickly to a turfy bank where a ragged negro lay at the base of a large tree. He was moaning, rocking his head, and holding a hand against his side. His rags were drenched with blood.
The white eyes rolled up to the face of the Judge, as he tossed his bridle to his son.
”Wateh,” whispered the big lips, ”wateh.”
John threw his father's bridle back, galloped through a gate, and came with a gourd full.
”Gimme quick, son, he's swoonin' away.” The draught brought back some life.
”Shan't I get a doctor, father?”
”Tain't a bit of use, son.”
”No,” moaned the negro. ”I'm gwine fasteh dan docto's kin come. I'm in de deep watehs. Gwine to meet my Lawd Jesus. Good-by, wife; good-by, chillun. Oh, Jedge March, dey shot me in pyo devilment. I was jist lookin' out fo' my boy. Dey was comin' in to town an dey sees me, an awdehs me to halt, an' 'stid o' dat I runs, thinkin' that'd suit 'em jist as well. Oh, Lawd!--Oh, Lawd! Oh!” He stared into the Judge's face, a great pain heaved him slowly, his eyes set, and all was over. A single sob burst from the boy as he gazed on the dark, dead features. The Judge hasted to mount.
”Now, son, I got to get right into town. But you see now, you betteh go along back to yo' motheh, don't you?”
”I'm goin' with you.”
XIII.
FOR FANNIE
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