"Sartin," said Nimbus, gravely.
"Wal, 'twas along o' dis yer business dat I went thar. I know'd yer'd got one er two warnin's sence I'd come yere wid yer, an' I 'llowed it were on account ob me, kase dem ar Sykeses is monstrous bad folks when dey gits mad, an' ole Marse Granville, he war powerful mad at me findin' a home here wid my own relations. So, I tole Sally Ann all 'bout it, an' I sez to her, 'Sally,' sez I, 'I don't want ter make Nimbus no sort o' trouble, I don't, kase he's stood up ter us like a man. Now, ef dey should take a notion ter trouble Bre'er Nimbus, hit mout do him a heap of harm, kase he's got so much truck 'round him here ter lose.' So we made it up dat I was ter go ter Bre'er Rufe Paterson's, ober in Hanson county an' see ef we couldn't find a place ter lib dar, so's not ter be baitin' de hawks on ter you, Cousin Nimbus."
"Now you, Berry," said Nimbus, extending his hand heartily, "what for yer no tell me dis afore?"
"Jes kase 'twas no use," answered Berry. "Wall, yer know, I left h'yer 'bout two hours ob de sun, an' I pushes on right peart, kase it's a smart step ober ter Rufe's, ennyhow, an' I wanted ter see him an' git back ter help Nimbus in de crap ob a Monday. Sally hed fixed me up a bite o' bread an' a piece o' meat, an' I 'llowed I'd jes stop in some piney ole-field when I got tired, eat my snack, go ter sleep, an' start fresh afo' daylight in de mornin' for de rest ob de way. I'd been a wukkin' right peart in de new-ground dat day, an' when I got ter dat pine thicket jes past de spring by de Brook's place, 'twixt de Haw Ribber an' Stony Fork, 'long 'bout nine o'clock I reckon, I wuz dat done out dat I jes takes a drink at de spring, eats a bite o' bread an' meat, hunts a close place under de pines, an' goes ter sleep right away.
"Yer knows dar's a smart open place dar, whar dey used ter hev de ole muster-ground. 'Twas de time ob de full moon, an' when I woke up a-hearin' somethin', an' kind o' peeped out under de pine bushes, I t'ought at fust dat it was de ghostesses ob de ole chaps dat hed come back ter muster dar, sure 'nough. Dey warn't more'n ten steps away from me, an' de boss man, he sot wid his back to me in dat rock place what dey calls de Lubber's Cheer. De hosses was tied all round ter de bushes, an' one ob 'em warn't more'n tree steps from me, nohow. I heard 'em talk jest ez plain ez you can hear me, an' I know'd right smart ob de voices, tu; but, la sakes! yer couldn't make out which from t'odder wid dem tings dey hed on, all ober der heads, an' way down to der feet."
"What did they say?" asked Eliab Hill.
"Wal, Bre'er 'Liab, dey sed a heap, but de upshot on't all was dat de white folks hed jes made up dar min's ter run dis kentry, spite ob ebbery ting. Dey sed dat dey wuz all fixed up in ebbery county from ole Virginny clean ter Texas, an' dey wuz gwine ter teach de niggers dere place agin, ef dey hed ter kill a few in each county an' hang 'em up fer scarecrows—jes dat 'ere way. Dey wa'n't no spring chickens, nuther. Dar wur Sheriff Gleason. He sed he'd corned over ter let 'em know how they was gittin' on in Ho'sford. He sed dat ebbery white man in de county 'cept about ten or twelve was inter it, an' dey wuz a gwine ter clean out nigger rule h'yer, shore. He sed de fust big thing they got on hand wuz ter break up dis buzzard-roost h'yer at Red Wing, an' he 'llowed dat wouldn't be no hard wuk kase dey'd got some pretty tough tings on Nimbus an" 'Liab both.
"Dey wuz all good men, I seed de hosses, when dey mounted ter go 'way. I tell ye dey wuz good 'uns! No pore-white trash dar; no lame hosses ner blind mules ner wukked down crap-critters, Jes sleek gentlemen's hosses, all on 'em.
"Wal, dey went off atter an hour er two, an' I lay dar jes in a puffick lather o' sweat. I was dat dar skeered, I couldn't sleep no mo' dat ar night, an' I darsn't walk on afore day kase I wuz afeared o' meetin' some on 'em. So I lay, an' t'ought dis ting all ober, an' I tell ye, fellers, 'tain't no use. 'Spose all de white men in Ho'sford is agin us, what's we gwine ter do? We can't lib. Lots o' niggers can't lib a week widout wuk from some white man. 'Sides dat, dey's got de bosses an' de guns, an' de 'sperience; an' what we got? Jes nuffin'. Der ain't no mo' use o' fightin' dan ob tryin' ter butt down 'simmons off a foot-an'-a-half tree wid yer head. It don't make no sort o' matter 'bout our rights. Co'se we'se got a right ter vote, an' hold meetin's, an' be like white folks; but we can't do it ef dey's a mind ter stop us. An' dey is—dat berry ting!
"Nimbus sez he's gwine ter fight, an' 'Liab sez he's gwine ter pray. Dat's all right, but it won't do nobody else enny good nor them nuther. Dat's my notion. What good did fightin' er prayin' either used ter do in ole slave times? Nary bit. An' dey's got us jest about ez close ez dey hed us den, only de halter-chain's a leetle mite longer, dat's all. All dey's got ter do is jes ter shorten up on de rope an' it brings us in, all de same ez ever. Dat's my notion. So I'se gwine ter move on ebbery time dey axes me tu; kase why, I can't help it. Berry'll git enough ter eat most ennywhar, an' dat's 'bout all he 'spects in dis worl'. It's a leetle better dan de ole slave times, an' ef it keeps on a-growin' better 'n better, gineration atter gineration, p'raps some of Berry's kinfolks'll git ter hev a white man's chance some time."