For a time Uncle Ben was quiet. His lips worked and he seemed to be talking to himself. But, after a long silence, he lifted his head from the pillow and exclaimed: “Listen! Listen, Marse Wash! Hear dat bark? Dat’s ole Sly, Marse Sam’s Georgy dog. She’s done slip in dere an’ strike er head uv ole Hannah!
“Listen! Hear her callin’? Marse Wash, dat Sly looks lak er steppin’ dog an’ she sho’ is gwine to give Joe some hard runnin’ dis mornin’ ef we jump dat Stinson fox.
“Listen, listen, listen, Marse Wash, I hear our dogs puttin’ in! Dere’s ole Sing, ole Loud and Joe. It’s time fur dat fox to walk erway now, ole Joe ain’t in no foolin’ way to-night. He sho’ is ready to run. Listen, Marse Wash, you hear him callin’.”
Uncle Ben dropped back on the pillow, and rested a few minutes. Everybody in the room was silent. It seemed only an hour or so. The old man had run his race and his time had come.
“Hear dat, Marse Wash? Listen how dat Georgy lady’s singin’ in dere. She an’ ole Joe’s neck to neck. Deyer comin’ down thu de Hartis woods now an’ ’tain’t gwine to be long till dey make dat fox run. Ef it’s de ole Stinson fox dey’ll ’roust him in de Rea pastur’. Dat’s whay he’s feedin’ dis time er night.
“Dat’s it! Listen, you hear ole Loud crossin’ dat hill? He’s scoutin’ now. De fus’ thing you know he’ll be right behint dat rascal. He ain’t sayin’ much, but he’s movin’ on.
“Dat’s Joe fallin’ in, an’ Jerry, an’ Dinah!
“Deyer all crossin’ to de pastur. Dat’s whay ole Stinson Fiel’ do his eatin’ ’bout dis time. Well, ef he’s in dere to-night you’ll hear dem dogs cry out lak dey wuz mad derectly.”
At irregular intervals the old darkey would stop and catch his breath. There was a smile upon his face and spirit in his voice. Death came on and he was having his last fox chase. The old Morrow hounds trailed the famous Stinson Field fox and were about to make a jump. Capt. Sam Stitt’s dogs were putting in and the quality of a new hound would be tested. The contest promised to be exciting.
“Hear dat Sly, wid dat chop, chop bark, an’ er sort uv er squeal! She’s right wid ole Joe.