The younger man made no reply.
"Hear me?" the elder demanded again in rising tones of severity. "Ain't you got no tongue in yo' haid? Whar you gwine?"
Shifting from one foot to the other the younger man finally broke away from Uncle Billy's eye and tried to pass him by.
"Den I'll tell you whar you gwine," shouted Uncle Billy, furious at last. "You's runnin' 'way to de Yankees, dat's whar you gwine."
At this too truthful thrust Jeems Henry saw that further deceit would be futile and he faced Uncle Billy with sullen resentment.
"An' s'posin' I is—wat den?"
"Den you's a thief," retorted Uncle Billy with dismayingly quick wit. "Dat's what you is—a thief."
"I ain' no thief," Jeems Henry refuted stubbornly, "I ain' stole nothin'."
"You is too," and Uncle Billy's forefinger began to shake in the other's face. "You's stealin' a nigger!"
"What dat?" and Jeems Henry's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What you talkin' 'bout?"