ONE WAS TAKEN—THE OTHER LEFT
On the hot white sand of a cart road that wound along the edge of a ricefield in lower Carolina, lay the stiffened body of a yellow, crop-eared cur. By his side, a companion in death, was a cottonmouth moccasin, beaten almost to a pulp.
The road was flanked on either side by a canal half filled with stagnant water, dotted here and there with water lilies and shaded by the feathery foliage of the pond willows, while, among the clumps of rushes that fringed the edges, blue flags nodded. Over all, the July sun glared fiercely, and up on the willow branches, where, here and there, his rays penetrated the dense foliage, lay a water snake basking in the golden light. Now and then a blue heron—the “Po’ Joe” of the plantation negro—rose lazily from his fishing station out in the ricefield, and, trailing his long legs after him, moved on to another “drop.” The whole world seemed to be asleep in the warm sunshine—all the world save old Ca’lina Manigo, who sat on a cypress log by the side of the road and gazed sorrowfully at the dead dog, and the snake that had caused its death, while he muttered to himself:
“Po’ ole Hol’fas’ dead, yaas, suh, dead en’ gone! Ketch ’e de’t’ en’ git ’structed by uh debble’ub’uh snake! De preechuh say dat w’en de Lawd tek’way good man en’ good ’ooman frum dis wull’ ’tis bekasew’y Him lub ’um en’ gots nyuse fuhr’um, but I wunduh w’y mekso Him tek’way Hol’fas’? Cyan’ be dem does ketch rokkoon en’ ’possum en’ t’ing een Heben! I nebbuh yerry ’bout no shishuh t’ing, but, my Mastuh! ef dem is got’um dey, Hol’fas’ will tree’um befo’ dayclean tomorruh mawnin’, ’speshly ef ’e got sense ’nuf fuh fin’ Bredduh Cudjo, my class-leader, w’at de Lawd tek las’ Fibbywerry, ’cause B’Cudjo nyuse to lub fuh folluh de waa’ment’ track een de swamp same lukkuh ’e nyuse to lub fuh folluh de ’Postle Paul’ en’ Nickuhdemus’ track een de Scriptuh, en’, I tell you, suh, w’en B’Cudjo git on a hot trail, wedduh’so ’e duh trail ’possum or ’postle, ’e berry haa’d fuh t’row’um off!
“Dat mek me ’membuh ’bout de las’ time me en’ him en’ Hol’fas’ ketch de hebby rokkoon een de Cypress swamp close to Beabuh dam. Yaas’suh, dat dog couldn’ tu’ndown fuh rokkoon! ’E wuz jes’ ’bout fus’ fowlcrow; de mawnin’ staar climb up de sky ’tell ’e stan’ ’puntop de treehead, en’, ’way obuh de swamp een de big dribe, we yerry de owl ‘whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo,’ en’ bimeby pres’n’ly, we list’n good en’ we yerry Hol’fas’ comin’ ’pun one hot trail, en’, bimeby ’gen, we know by ’e baa’k dat ’e done tree; so, w’en we come to de dog, ’e bin at de biggis’ sweetgum tree een de swamp en’ duh gib ’e tongue berry rappit. Now, w’en we pit de light’ood junk behin’ we fuh shine ’e yeye, we see de rokkoon ’puntop de berry top uh de gum tree, en’ we yent gots no gun fuh shoot de rokkoon, so B’Cudjo staa’t’ fuh climb de tree fuh t’row down de rokkoon, en’ ’e git’long berry well ’tell ’e git mos’ to de rokkoon, en’ B’Cudjo so hongry fuh ketch de rokkoon, dat ’e nebbuh quizzit de limb w’at him binnuh seddown ’puntop, en’ w’en ’e graff at de rokkoon, please Gawd, de limb couldn’ specify, en’ de limb bruk, en’ w’en B’Cudjo graff de rokkoon by ’e tail, him en’ de rokkoon alltwo drap out de tree, en’ hit de groun’ ‘bim!’ De rokkoon dead, but B’Cudjo, een Gawd’ mussy, fall ’puntop ’e head, en’ dat hukkuh ’e didn’ bruk ’e back!
“Well, praise de Mastuh, Him tek’way Hol’fas’. I yent grudge’um de dog, ef Him want’um, but I wish ’E had uh bin tek my lady Bina en’ lef’ de dog, ’cause de dog nebbuh lie, en’ de ’ooman fuhrebbuh duh lie, en’ de dog wuz a fait’ful dog, en’ de ’ooman is a ’ceitful ’ooman, en’ w’en you feed de dog, de dog wag ’e tail, but de ’ooman! him nebbuh tengkful fuh nutt’n’. You nebbuh kin sattify him!”