“Did you catch him?”
“Yes, sir. He was hiding in the hay-loft, and when I went up to throw some hay to the horses, I pushed the fork down into the mow and it struck something hard. I didn’t know what it was, and I pushed hard, and gave it a turn, and then he hollered, and I took it out.”
“What do you bring him here, for?”
“Come for the key of the jail, sir, to lock him up.”
“What!” said another, “one darkey catch another darkey? Don’t believe that story.”
“Oh yes, mass’r, I tell for true. He was down in our hay-loft, and so you see when I stab him, I have to catch him.”
“Why, he’s hurt bad, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he says I pushed through the bones.”
“Whose nigger is he?”
“He says he belong to Mass’r Frost, sir, on the Brazos.”