“Well, ez I wuz tellin’ you, I hadn’ mo’n fed Crow an’ Ab’ham, when dat new oberseer, Dan Sharp, cum ’long an’ sez ter me, jes’ ez I wuz startin’ ter see Susan, ‘Why didn’ you teck de yoke of’n dem steers?’ So I say, ‘Kase I fogot hit!’ ‘Well, den,’ he say, ’you lazy roscal, teck hit orf now!’ I wuz all dress up in meh bes’ summer close, an’ I recommembered what you say boutin dat oberseer; so I riz meh haid up an’ say, sassy-like, ‘You roscal yo’sef.’ Billy, wid dat he fairly foam at de mouf, run arfter me fas’ ez uh colt; den I run an’ run, but he gain on me (you see, I had meh shoes on), an’ I wuz so feard gittin’ kotch an’ whupped, da wuz nuffin lef’ fuh me but ter run in de creek, at de mouf ub Haylan’ Branch, up ter meh neck—wid dem new yaller pants on. Arfter I had bin in de watah boutin twenty minutes, mebby uh harf hour, long nuff fuh Dan Sharp ter git his bref back, he say, ‘Who uh roscal, you black imp; me er you?’ I sez rite quick, ‘I is!’ Den he say, ‘You kin cum outin de creek.’ Den I tu’n fool, ez hit tu’n out, an’ say, ‘I ain’ gwine ter cum out; I’s gwine ter suffah in heah. I’s gwine ter git de cramps, an’ uh mis’ry in meh back, an’ den go an’ tell Mars Nickey an’ Miss Henrietta how I kotch dem cramps.’ Den Dan Sharp say, ‘Ef’n you gwine ter tell yo’ Mars Nickey an’ Miss Henrietta, den I will keep you in heah tell midnite.’ Den he teck out he watch an’ say, ‘I’ll send de fus’ one ub de chillun dat cum ’long de road fuh meh supper. I ain’ sorry ter stay heah, kase I heah tell ub de dancin’ parties de witches hab in dis branch, an’ I wanter see how long hit will teck ’em ter gib you spavins when dey gits ter dancin’ an’ meddowtatin’ ’roun’ you an’ tryin’ ter meck sturrups in yo’ hyah.’
“Billy, I had meh hyah all tied up in twisses, but when de oberseer talk dat fashion, meh hyah riz up on meh haid so quick hit bus’ dem twisses. I mos’ had uh spavin, sho’ nuff. When meh bref cum back I say, ‘Befo’ de Lawd, Mr. Sharp, I promis’ not ter tell.’ Den he lemmy cum out. Well, Billy, ef’n you cud hab seed de colour de salt watah tu’n dem lubly pants, you’d uh wep’. Do you recommember uh ole white-eyed, pie-coloured hoss dat good ole Quakah, Mars Isaac Atkinson, had name Skeuball?”
“’Cose I do. Mars Isaac use ter say witches made stirrups in he main, an’ sometimes rid him ober ter Fausley.” [Billy was that witch!]
“Well, de colour ub dem pants ’mine me ub ole Skeuball; I kyant ’magin’ what de man dat made de muslin cud uh put in hit. An’ Billy, I kyant ondastan’ how cum Mr. Sharp run me in dat creek. I’m mo’n twice ez big ez you is, an’ you say when he cuss you, you cuss him back. ’Cose arfter what you spressify ter me, when he sass me I rite ’way ’cluded ter sass him. So I say, ‘You roscal yo’sef.’ Billy you no de consequation ub dat miration. I ’ten’ ter ax Mr. Sharp when he meck up wid me how cum hit dat Billy kin cuss him an’ I kyant ebin sass him.”
“Juba, don’ tu’n fool ergin. Don’ say nuffin ter him nohow; hit will jes’ meck him mad ergin, an’ dat gre’t big man mite breck bof our necks. Da wuz uh checkeration in our composation de nite I tole you, fuh Mage Rudd tuck his broom an’ fairly swep’ me outin his sto’ fuh spillin’ mullasses on de sto’ flo’, an’ I wuz tu fusstified ter tell you de res’ ub what I did boutin Mr. Sharp. Well, Juba, de res’ is, when I wan’ ter cuss him I goes way up ter de top ub de hill ’hin’ de bawn. Den I looks all ’roun’ an’ ’roun’, an’ ef’n I don’ see Mr. Sharp no wha neah, I jes’ cuss, cuss, an’ cusses him; an’ dat way, hit do mo’ good dan yo’ way, kase you kin git mad ez you wan’ ter, spressify yo’sef jes’ ez yo’ wan’ ter, an’ hit don’ teck de colour outin yo’ pants.”
“Well, Billy, I ain’ fogot de spilein’ ub dem pants, I tell you. I bin t’inkin’ ’bout breckin’ meh wud an’ tyin’ meh haid up’n uh hankcheah an’ tellin’ Mars Nickey de ve’y fus’ time he ax me how I feel. Den I’ll say, “Po’ly, Mars Nickey; ve’y po’ly eber sence Mr. Sharp run me in yo’ creek at de foot ub Haylan’ Branch mash an’ kep’ me stan’in’ in da mos’ all nite tramplin’ on yo’ oysters. Now, what do you t’ink, Billy, boutin dat?”
“Ez you gwine ter tell Marster in de summah time er de wintah time?”
“Dunno, Billy; I ain’ t’ink ’bout dat.”
“Well, teck my ’vice an’ tell him in de summah time, kase boutin uh harf hour arfter you tell him, da will be tu pussons stan’in’ in de creek up ter deah moufs—one will be Mr. Sharp, tudda, Juba Viney.”