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“Where did you go and what did you do next?” I asked the old fellow as he paused with a whimsical little nod of satisfaction at his wisdom.

“I went home, suh,” he said. “I heah on de way dat P’laski had sho ‘nough done crownt Bob Sibly’s gal, Lizzy Susan, wid de ring, an’ dat he wuz gwine to Wash’n’n, but wuz done come home to git some things b’f o’ he went; so I come straight ‘long behinst him jes swif’ as my foot could teck me. I didn’ was’e much time,” he said, with some pride, “‘cuz he had done mighty nigh come gittin’ me shot. I jes stop long ‘nough to cut me a bunch o’ right keen hick’ries, an’ I jes come ‘long shakin’ my foot. When I got to my house I ain’ fine nobody dyah but Lucindy–dat ve’y ooman dyah”–pointing his long stick at her–“an’ I lay my hick’ries on de bed, an’ ax her is she see P’laski. Fust she meek out dat she ain’ heah me, she so induschus; I nuver see her so induschus; but when I meck ‘quiration agin she bleeged to answer me, an’ she ‘spon’ dat she ‘ain’ see him; ‘cuz she see dat my blood wuz up, an’ she know dee wuz trouble ‘pendin’ for P’laski. Dat worry me might’ly, an’ I say, ‘Lucindy, ef you is done meck dat boy resent hisself f’om heah, you is done act like a po’ white folks’ nigger,’ I say, ‘an’ you’s got to beah de depravity o’ his transgression.’ When I tolt her dat she nuver got mad, ‘cuz she know she air not quality like me an’ Marth’ Ann; but she ‘pear right smartly disturbed, an’ she ‘clar’ she ain’ lay her eyes on P’laski. She done ‘clar’ so partic’lar I mos’ inclin’ to b’lieve her; but all on a suddent I heah some ‘n’ sneeze, ‘Quechew!’ De soun’ come f om onder de bed, an’ I jes retch over an’ gether in my bunch o’ hick’ries, an’ I say, ‘Come out!’ Lucindy say, ‘Dat’s a cat’; an’ I say, ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘hit’s a cat I gwine skin, too.’

“I jes stoop down, an’ peep onder de bed, an’, sho ‘nough, dyah wuz P’laski squinch up onder dyah, cane an’ seegar an’ all, jes like a ole hyah in a trap. I ketch him by de leg, an’ juck him out, an’–don’ you know, suh, dat ooman had done put my shut on dat boy, an’ wuz gettin’ ready to precipitate him in flight! I tolt her it wuz p’intedly oudacious for her an’ her son, after he had done stolt ole Mis’ Taine weddin’-ring, to come to my own house an’ rob me jes like I wuz a hen-roos’!”

“What reply did she make to that?” I asked, to facilitate his narrative.

“She ‘ain’ possessed no reply to dat indictment,” he said, pompously. “She glad by dat time to remit me to terminate my excitement on P’laski, an’ so I did. He hollered tell dee say you could heah him two miles; he fyahly lumbered.” The old fellow gave a chuckle of satisfaction at the reminiscence, and began to draw figures in the sand with his long stick. Suddenly, however, he looked up.

“Ef I had a-intimated how much tribilation dat lumberin’ wuz gwine to get me in, he nuver would ‘a’ hollered. Dat come o’ dat chicken-stealin’ nigger Jem Sinkfiel’; he cyahed him off.”

He again became reflective, so I asked, “Haven’t you seen him since?”

“Oh, yes, suh, I seen him since,” he answered. “I seen him after I come out o’ jail; but ‘twuz a right close thing. I thought I wuz gone.”

“Gone! for whipping him?” “Nor, suh; ’bout de murder.”

“Murder?”

“Yes, suh; murder o’ him–o’ P’laski.” “But you did not murder him?” “Nor, suh; an’ dat wuz whar de trouble presisted. Ef I had a-murdered him I’d ‘a’ knowed whar he wuz when dee wanted him; but, as ‘twair, when de time arrove, I wair unable to perduce him: and I come mighty nigh forfeitin’ my life.”