"I done tol' dem yo'-all sho'd cum back," he said stoutly. "Den when yore deah li'lle spirrut cum dat night an' tuck er way dat li'lle Obeah-stone—den I shore knowed yo' war due—an' ma heart war a shoutin' all night so hard dat hit keep me wake—an' heah yo' be li'lle gal—heah yo' be—hits Slab dat knows—Slab he knows."
"Slab," projected Belle-Ann, without the slightest prelude, "Amos Tennytown wants you."
These words halted Slab with one foot raised. He cautiously let the one foot down. The smiles that had wreathed his visage when Belle-Ann spoke were frozen there.
"Come on, Slab," urged Belle-Ann. "Surely you are not scared. Colonel Amos Tennytown sent you-all a kind message. He wants you to drop in and see him at Lexington, Slab. Do you remember when that cruel snapping turtle woke you up?"
Slab was now stumbling along open-mouthed, blinking down at the girl, his dim eyes shot with a smoldering fire of endeared reminiscences; a cherished theme that had hovered in his memory since the distant day when the blue and the gray had dueled,—scenes mellowed by time, but sweetly mated with "Kitty Wells." Unbelieving and in faltering tones of half reproach, he said:
"Li'lle gal, don' pesticate de ole man,—I's er ole man, li'lle gal,—yo' orter be good t' de ole man now—don' fool de ole man—no—don' fool Slab, li'lle gal—he—he—"
"Slab, I am not fooling you. How could I know about the turtle and old Hickamohawk if I had not seen Colonel Tennytown? And he wants you down thah, Slab."
"Li'lle Amos—li'lle Amos?" he repeated, measuring the imaginary height of a boy with his hand. "Li'lle Amos—he want Slab?"
All doubt vanished.
"Hallalujah—hallalujah—hallalujah!"