“Massa sabe Hannibal life,” said the great negro, with a grave smile. “Can’t say well, but tink great deal ’bout all massa done for us.”
“Don’t talk about it,” said my father, quietly.
“No, sah,” replied the great black, turning to me, “not talk ’bout; tink about much—much more.”
“Well, Hannibal, if we live to get clear of this dreadful trouble, I will try to be fair to—” He stopped for a few moments, wincing evidently from pain.
“Better now,” he said, with a smile. “I was going to say, I have never considered either you, Hannibal, or your boy as slaves.”
“No, massa,” said the big black, calmly.
“But you are considered to be so here; and from this day I give you both your liberty.”
Hannibal smiled, and shook his head.
“Do you not understand me?”
“Massa give holiday. Han done want holiday,” said the black, laboriously.