“Dey’s goin’ to ketch dat fox. Git up Sam an’ less see ’em kill him! Go on! Come on, Marse Wash!”
For the first time during the night the old darkey became very much excited and jumped and surged in the bed. Those near tried to calm him. But the race was almost over. Uncle Ben’s summons had come. The angel of death was at the door.
“Look, Marse Wash, ole Joe’s in de lead. He sees dat fox an’ he’s done lef’ Sly. He’s runnin’ fur blood.
“See him! Look! Look! Ole Stinson Fiel’s ’bout to git to de thicket! See, he can’t make it! Joe’s grabbin’ at him! Look! Look!”
That was all. Uncle Ben was giving up the ghost. Death came on him. The final summons had arrived. As old Joe bore down the fox the faithful servant of the Morrow family passed away. As the end drew nigh Dr. Morrow and Dr. Smith and other friends who had assembled around the bed stood near and watched the light go out. Everything around was still. Death was easy.
The remains were buried in the Morrow family’s private burial grounds. Ben was the last of the old slave stock. In his delirium he had called back his old master, the old horses and the old hounds, and died happy in the delusion.
Aunt Matt.