"A man, gal, a man!" She fanned her black eagle face, the sweat brilliant on it.
"Wuz he alone?"
"Yes, ni."
"An' nobody wuz 'pon de road?"
"Not a blind soul gwine up or comin' down! An' me by meself mekin' fo' Waterford Bottom!"
"Gal, wha' yo' a do? Try fo' be a buckra?" And she cast an accusing eye at the white man.
A slow chuckle escaped Bellon as he tapped on his leggings with a black sage switch.
"Soul, I wuz so frighten I couldn't swallow good. I nearly choke, yes. But anyway I had my trus' in de Lord—
"Fust I taught it wuz a duppy—one o' de mans in de canes come back fo' haunt de po' neygah."
"Dey do dat," agreed Mother Cragwell, irrelevantly.