Scipio Jones (affrighted): “Don’ talk dat way, Brer Poney.”
By this time Billy had slowly pulled his pumpkin face some twenty feet from the ground, and as the witch-elm bow was gently moved by the breeze, it gave the pumpkin face such a weird look that even Billy got lonesome. Uncle Stephen, less timid and more observant, though behind, was the first to see the pumpkin face. With a gasp, and dropping quickly on his knees, he wailed:
“Ef’n you is a ghos’, Mars’ Ghos’, I ’spec you is uh ghos’, an’ ef’n you is uh witch, my Mistis Witch, I ’spec you is uh witch! I nebber sed nuffin ergin ghos’es an’ witches in meh life, an’ I’s 70 year ole—an’ nebber see an’ bleebe in witches an’ ghos’es; but I bleebe now, ’fo’ de Lawd, I do! an’ now I ondastan’ why dis branch so full ub witch-elm an’ witch-hazel trees.”
Just then Billy gave his grapevine a gentle pull, bobbed the pumpkin, and Uncle Stephen, more frightened than ever, exclaimed in great humility:
“O Lawd, ’fen’ Stephen, an’ let he salbation resis’ dat witch, an’ de witch resis’ he salbation, an’ keep de witch fum leadin’ po’ Stephen ter”——
“Is you got de kramps, Uncle Stephen?” half frantically exclaimed Scip’. Uncle Stephen pointed his trembling hands at the witch-elm tree, and Scipio and John saw the pumpkin face.
A few minutes thereafter Uncle Stephen was trotting homeward alone—tired, dejected and scared almost out of his senses, and every now and then ejaculating, as he stumbled and trotted along:
“Dat orn’ry niggah, Scipio Jones, done breck up coon huntin’ in dis branch!”
Scipio and John ran until they came to a haystack some two miles away, in which they made a hole and hid themselves until daylight, when Scipio took Noahy back to his owner.
On Sunday next Parson Demby gave notice “Dat Scipio Jones had got salbation in he hyart, an’ wud be babtiz’ Sunday cummin’.”