“Ill-treated?” said Morgan, scornfully; “why, they’re only niggers.”
“Well, they’re men, Morgan.”
“Dunno so much about that, Master George. They’re blacks, that’s what they are, and everybody but master buys ’em to work on the plantations. I did think master was going to be sensible at last. Only slaves!”
“How would you like to be a slave, Morgan?”
“Me, Master George? Well, you see I couldn’t be. I aren’t a black. There, I’ve got lots to do, and can’t stand talking here. These weeds ’ll be all over my garden again directly. You’re going to stop, I s’pose?”
“Yes.”
“Well, call me if they seize the boat. We can’t let ’em have that. When they do go, they’ll have to swim.”
So Morgan went off to his hoeing, and I stopped under the shade of the big magnolia to keep my long watch.