Once a fine shoat strayed too near to Ben’s little field and soon found its way into the old man’s larder, where it was found by a search party in charge of old Harrison. An examination showed that the animal had been shot with duck shot, and shot of the same size having been found in the undischarged barrel of the negro’s double-barrel, Ben was arrested and sent to Walterboro jail and Harrison was summoned as a witness. Harrison was fond of a dram and looked forward to the approach of court week which would bring him a visit to the county seat with witness fees of 50 cents a day and mileage. Walterboro was 35 miles away, and five cents a mile both ways meant $3.50, which loomed large in the mind of the old hunter. On the Saturday night before the convening of court, he prepared a week’s rations of cornbread, bacon and baked sweet potatoes, and early Sunday morning filled a great knapsack, and, with his long gun on his shoulder, walked all the way to the county seat. On the following day the pig thief was duly arraigned, the jury organized, and old Harrison, loaded to the muzzle with Walterboro whiskey, to which he had been treated by the youngsters who liked to hear him talk, came to the witness stand, a 20-pound knapsack of provisions around his shoulders and his long gun in his hand. His direct testimony was:
“Sunday mornin’ bin over t’ Cap’n Elliott’s, coz mostly Sunday mornin’ ef uh goes by th’ house Cap’n gennully gives me uh pow’ful drink, en’ uh allus likes me dram. W’en uh got through me dram, uh was walkin’ ’long by ol’ Ben’s house, en’ uh heerd uh gun shoot. Uh meet some boys and went to th’ house en’ fin’ th’ shoat en’ fin’ number two duck shot een ’im. Uh fin’ ol’ Ben’s gun in the corner, one barrel been fired, en’ uh drawed th’ load of t’other barrel en’ fin’ number two duck shot, same size ez een th’ shoat. Then uh told Cap’n, he give me ’nother dram, we ’rested ol’ Ben in th’ pulpit where he was preachin’ to a raft uh niggers, en’ we send him to Walterboro.”
Then came the cross-examination. The young lawyer for the defense baited old Harrison to the great amusement of the court room.
“What do you know about duck shot?” he was asked. “I don’t believe you know the size of a duck shot.”
“Uh don’t know de size uv uh duck shot! Course uh knows de size uv uh duck shot. Bin hunt’n’ all me life, bin shoot’n’ duck shot all me life.”
“If you know the size of a duck shot, take this pencil and let the jury see you draw one on the court house wall.”
Harrison rose with bleary eyes and a fatuous smile on his bronzed face. Unable to read or write, he held the pencil as a small boy holds a sizzling firecracker, but he was game and stepped up to the wall primed with the confidence born of ignorance. Judge, jury and spectators craned their necks to see the performance. The draftsman stuck close to the wall and moved the pencil slowly and laboriously over the whitewashed surface. When at last he stepped back and turned around proudly to reveal his work, the court house exploded with laughter, from Judge Wallace on the bench, to the tipstaff at the door, for the tipsy old hunter’s outline of a duck shot was about eight inches long and five inches wide and bore a striking resemblance to the continent of Africa. He returned to the witness chair. Taking the shouts of merriment as tributes to the accuracy of his sketch, he looked scornfully at the young lawyer.
“Ain’t I tell ye uh know’d d’size uv uh duck shot? Bin shoot’n’ duck shot all me life. Course uh knows d’size uv uh duck shot!” And there was more laughter.
The negro was convicted, and sent to the penitentiary for two years, but was soon leased to a railroad contractor, and, becoming a “trusty” and a cook, had an easy time. When he returned to Pon Pon he resumed his place in the pulpit without the slightest loss of caste, and often referred to his sojourn in the Capital City, telling many stories to the members of his flock about “de time w’en uh bin penitenshus,” or “w’en uh bin Cuhlumbia.”
One Christmas morning old Harrison came to the house with the portentous information that he intended to marry the widow Pendarvis, was then on his way to her habitation seven or eight miles away, and would bring back his bride the same evening.