“You cornverse her, Hitch,” Vinegar Atts pleaded. “I’ll set right here by you an’ pray constant.”
Diada walked to the fireplace, squatted down, picked up two splinters of wood and rubbed them together. A tiny blue flame curled around the fingers of the woman. Sheltering the flame with her hands, she added more fuel, and in a moment stepped back from a roaring fire.
“Look at dat!” Hitch Diamond exclaimed in tones of wonder and admiration. “Made a fire by rubbin’ two sticks ag’in’ each odder. I done tried dat a thousan’ times, but I didn’t make nothin’ but sweat!”
“Whut you reckin she done built dat fire fer, Hitch?” Vinegar inquired with chattering teeth.
“Mebbe she wants to dry out dem clothes she’s got on,” Hitch surmised.
“I dunno,” Vinegar responded in fearful tones. “It ’pears to me dat it’s mighty nigh dinner-time, an’ I’s done heerd tell dat sometimes dose here she-heathens eats folks.”
“Oh, hush, nigger!” Hitch mourned, sinking down upon a bench at the far end of the room. “Don’t start no news like dat! Please, suh, Revun Atts, git yo’ religium wuckin’ ag’in’ her right now!”
“I don’t know how!” Vinegar lamented. “I ain’t never had no expe’unce on dis kind of job.”
“Whut do de Bible say do?” Hitch demanded.
“It say, ‘Watch an’ pray,’” Vinegar told him.