“Weh ’e dey, boy? T’row’um down!”
“Dem alltwo dey ’pun dish’yuh lef’ han’ limb.”
“Shine dem eye, Joe, lemme shoot’um,” said Abram.
“Tek’care oonuh ent shine my’own en’ shoot me!” cried Tom.
“Nigguh eye yent fuh shine,” Abram replied, but he was spared the embarrassment of having to distinguish between Tom’s eyes and the raccoons’, for one of the animals, a half grown individual, broke sanctuary, and, dashing past Tom, slid down the tree to a lower limb, from whose extremity he sprang to the ground, unhappily for him, only a few feet distant from the watching Ring, who was on him before he could get started. There was a furious scuffle for a few minutes but the veteran dog soon choked the ’coon to death.
Tom now commenced crawling out on the limb after the big raccoon, who growled menacingly and backed as the negro neared him. At last the limb began to sag under Tom’s weight and the ’coon at the very end, eight or ten feet beyond him, teetered uneasily, as the torches flared beneath him and the dogs yelped expectantly. The long stick was now brought into play and Tom straddled the bough while he tried to pry off the quarry, but in his zeal he overreached himself and slid too far. The bough buckled under him like a whip and he lost his balance, but while regaining his hold with monkey-like agility he clutched so frantically at the raccoon’s end of the limb as to dislodge its occupant, who fell in the very teeth of the dogs. In the fierce fight that ensued, the raccoon slit the ears of the younger dogs and mauled them severely before Ring could get the throat-hold he wanted. Once secured, however, he soon choked the ’coon to death. As midnight approached, it was decided to eat supper and go home.
A lot of dry wood was gathered and a big fire made in a little glade. The younger negroes sat around the flames waiting for the coals upon which to broil the smoked herrings. Old ’Bram stretched out on the ground with the soles of his bare feet toward, and almost in, the fire, and, true to the traditions of a night watchman, he soon fell asleep. The flames crackled. Tom and Joe and the solemn Sike blinked at the light and nodded, the dogs licked their wounds and whimpered at the sharper twinges of pain. Suddenly old Abram grunted and “sniffed the tainted gale.”
“Eh, eh! Uh smell foot duh bu’n! Somebody’ foot mus’ be duh bu’n! Uh wunduh who’ foot duh bu’n?” Then, as he sat up and saw the curling smoke rising from the thick horny sole of one of his own feet, “Great Gawd, duh my’own! Duh my foot duh bu’n! Tom, oonuh binnuh seddown duh fiah duh look ’puntop my foot duh bu’n, hukkuh you nubbuh tell me?”
“Me shum duh bu’n fuh true, Unk’ Ebbrum, but oonuh binnuh sleep en’ uh t’awt ’e would bex you fuh wake.”
“Oonuh had no bidness fuh t’awt nutt’n’! You seddown duh fiah en’ look ’puntop my foot duh bu’n en’ nubbuh tell me. Joe, oonuh binnuh seddown duh fiah duh look ’puntop my foot duh bu’n, hukkuh you nubbuh tell me?”