"Lord bress you, Harry, dat you? Bress you, you ought fur to see mas'r! Such a gale up to de house!"
"What's the matter, Pomp?"
"Why, mas'r, he done got one of he fits! Tarin' round dar, fit to split!—stompin' up and down de 'randy, swarin' like mad! Lord, if he an't! He done got Jake tied up, dar!—swars he's goin' to cut him to pieces! He! he! he! Has so! Got Jake tied up dar! Ho! ho! ho! Real curus! And he's blowin' hisself out dere mighty hard, I tell you! So, if you want to get word wid him, you can't do it till he done got through wid dis yer!" And the old man ducked his pepper-and-salt-colored head, and chuckled with a lively satisfaction.
As Harry rode slowly up the avenue to the house, he caught sight of the portly figure of its master, stamping up and down the veranda, vociferating and gesticulating in the most violent manner. He was a corpulent man, of middle age, with a round, high forehead, set off with grizzled hair. His blue eyes, fair, rosy, fat face, his mouth adorned with brilliant teeth, gave him, when in good-humor, the air of a handsome and agreeable man. At present his countenance was flushed almost to purple, as he stood storming, from his rostrum, at a saucy, ragged negro, who, tied to the horse-post, stood the picture of unconcern; while a crowd of negro men, women, and children, were looking on.
"I'll teach you!" he vociferated, shaking his fist. "I won't—won't bear it of you, you dog, you! You won't take my orders, won't you? I'll kill you—that I will! I'll cut you up into inch-pieces!"
"No, you won't, and you know you won't!" interposed Mrs. Gordon, who sat at the window behind him. "You won't, and you know you won't! and they know you won't, too! It will all end in smoke, as it always does. I only wish you wouldn't talk and threaten, because it makes you ridiculous!"
"Hold your tongue, too! I'll be master in my own house, I say! Infernal dog!—I say, Cuff, cut him up!—Why don't you go at him?—Give it to him!—What you waiting for?"
"If mas'r pleases!" said Cuff, rolling up his eyes, and making a deprecating gesture.
"If I please! Well, blast you, I do please! Go at him!—thrash away! Stay, I'll come myself." And, seizing a cow-hide, which lay near him, he turned up his cuffs, and ran down the steps; but, missing his footing in his zeal, came head-first against the very post where the criminal was tied.
"There! I hope, now, you are satisfied! You have killed me!—you have broke my head, you have! I shall be laid up a month, all for you, you ungrateful dog!"