[CHAPTER XIII.]
The sky was just reddening when I came down next morning and commenced to get my gun and accoutrements, to try my hand at hunting. Father called me as I was about to leave the house, and told me to come to the back door. There I found a negro boy, thirteen or fourteen years of age, in his shirt sleeves, a clean white shirt, and copperas checked pants, held up by suspenders of the same cloth, fastened on them by little sticks; one hand resting up against the house, and one bare foot scratching the top of the other.
“John,” said father, as I came out in the porch, gun in hand, “this is Reuben, one of Hannah’s children. You may take him for your valet. He knows all the best hunting and fishing places around here. When you go to Goldsboro’ you can get him some more suitable livery.”
“Thank you, sir; he will suit me exactly. How do you like it, Reuben?”
Reuben could only snicker and rub his hand on the weather boarding, as an acknowledgment of his favor.
“I am about to start hunting now; can you carry me to a place where I can kill some squirrels?”
“Yes, sir; ef I c’n git Unker Jack’s Trip, and go over ‘gin the big spring field, you kin find a sight on ’em.”
“Well, run and get Trip, and come on.”
He ran down to the quarters, and soon came back with a little blue-spotted, curl-tailed dog, which he declared could “find ’em eben ef dey wan’t dere!”