“Him bit warm, massa—and just now him say whuzz, whuzz when we rub um front.”
“No,” said the overseer; “impossible. He was under the water too long. Here, what are you doing?”
The black had laid his ear against the patient’s breast, but he started up again.
“Lissum; hear whever him dead, massa. You come, put your head down heah, and you hear um go wob, wob berry soffly.”
Saunders bent down and laid his head against the man’s bull-throat, to keep it there for a few moments.
“No go wob, wob, sah?” cried the black. “You two and me gib um big shake. Um go den.”
“No, no; let him be,” cried the overseer; and the blacks looked on in perfect silence till their tyrant rose slowly to his feet, scowling.
“Clumsy brute,” he said, “causing all this trouble and hindrance. Nearly drowned two men. There, two of you take him by his head and heels and drop him in.”
“Tie big ’tone to um head first, massa?”
“What!” roared the overseer, so sharply that the black jumped to his feet. “What do you mean?”