“She sho’ly did, but she cain’t carry us back. Dat hoss ready fo’ to quit. She got de heaves.”
“We can work,” moralized Morey. “We can make two dollars and a half a day working.”
“Yo’ ain’t come hyar to do no wuk, I reckon. How come you go to Wash’ton, Marse Morey?”
“I’m going to make our fortune, Amos. I’ve got a great invention that I’m going to sell. It will give us all the money we can use. Then I’m going to buy a banjo for you and we’re going back home on the cars and fix up the place and be real farmers and have pigs and cows and horses and paint the house and mend the fences and hire hands to run the farm.”
“Look hyar, boy! Yo’ losin’ yo’ min’! Who tol’ yo’ we gwine do all dat? Yo’ done been communin’ wid ole crazy man Keyhole.”
“You wait and see—I’ve got something in my bag that is going to do all that and more—when I sell it.”
“We gwine to have money to ride on de steam cars?”
“You just do as I tell you and follow me and you’ll not only ride on the steam cars but you’ll eat on them.”
“Eat on ’em? Who gwine have time to eat on de steam cars? Yo’ boun’ to look outen de winder. I ain’t gwine have no time to eat on de cars. Talkin’ bout eatin,” went on Amos, “I reckon we could eat now ef we had de eatin’s.”