CHAPTER IX
A NAKED SCUTTERER.
THE next morning was one of those days that sometimes come in the summer, when the most desirable thing to do is to sleep. The air was soft and damp, and sleep inviting, and when something awoke me at six o’clock, I drowsily looked at my watch and dreamily realized that I was not compelled to catch any train, but could sink into delightful unconsciousness once more.
Just what had waked me I did not know, but before I went off again I heard the voice of James out doors, and then I heard the voice of Minerva, evidently at her open window, saying:
“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
And then I dropped off, to be awakened again in what seemed like a moment by these beautiful words:
“Oh, de debbil he t’ought he had me fas’.
Le’ my people go.
But I t’ought I’d break his chains at las’,
Le’ my people go.
Go down Moses, way down in Egypt la-an’,