"Don't you mention it, Bo; I never dreamed of such a thing as you are hinting at."
"Well, you said you were dreaming yesterday when we met that little darky boy, and you nearly tore the jacket off of him before I could wake you up with a club."
Horatio drew his bow hastily across the strings and began singing—
"Keemo, kimo, kilgo, kayro,
Horses in de stable goin' 'Nay, nay, nay!'
Rop strop, periwinkle, little yaller nigger,
Cum a rop strop bottle till the break of day."
The sun was just setting behind a large, white, old fashioned sugar house, where the bayou turned, and made it look like an ancient castle. The little boy sighed. He had never believed that any country could be so beautiful as this, and he wanted to stay in it forever. Horatio liked it, too. They had played and danced at many of the sugar houses, and the Bear had been given everywhere all the waste sugar he could eat. He was fond of the green cane also, and was nearly always chewing a piece when they were not busy with a performance. But the big fellow had never quite overcome his old savage nature, and the race on the steamboat had roused it more fiercely than ever. The fat pickaninnies were a constant temptation to him, and it had taken all Bo's watchfulness to keep him out of dreadful mischief. Bo never feared for himself. Horatio loved him and had even become afraid of him. It was for Horatio that he feared, for he knew that death would be sure and swift if one of the pickaninnies was even so much as scratched, not to mention anything worse that might happen. Again the little boy sighed as they turned into a clean grassy place and made ready for camp.
Long after Bosephus was asleep Horatio sat by the dying camp fire, thinking. By and by he rose and walked out to the bank of the bayou and looked toward the sugar house that lay white in the moonlight, half a mile away. Then he went back to where Bo was asleep and picked up the violin. Then he laid it down again, as though he had changed his mind, and slipped away through the shadows in the direction of the old sugar house. He said to himself that, as they were going in that direction and would stop there next day, he might as well see how the road went and what kind of a place it was. He did not own, even to himself, that it was the negro cabins and fat pickaninnies that were in his mind, and that down in his heart was a wicked and savage purpose. Every little way he paused and seemed about to turn back, but he kept on. By and by he drew near the sugar house and saw the double row of whitewashed huts in the moonlight. It was later than he had supposed and the crowds of little darkies that were usually playing outside had gone to bed. He sighed and was about to turn back when suddenly he saw something capering about near the shed of the sugar house. He slipped up nearer and a fierce light came into his eyes. It was a little negro boy doing a hoo-doo dance in the moonlight.
