The woman put out one foot, which had been loosely bound up in old rags, now saturated in blood.
"I declar, if that ar dog an't a pealer!" said Ben. "Nance, you ought ter have stood still; then he wouldn't have hurt you so."
"Lord, he hurt me so I couldn't stand still!" said the woman. "It an't natur to stand still with a critter's teeth in yer foot."
"Well, I don't know as it is," said Ben, good-naturedly. "Here, Miss Dakin, you bind up this here gal's foot. Stop your noise, sir-ee!" he added, to the young aspirant for bread and molasses, who, having despatched one piece, was clamoring vigorously for another.
"I'll tell you what!" said Ben to his wife, "I am going to talk to that ar old Elder Settle. I runs more niggers for him than any man in the county, and I know there's some reason for it. Niggers don't run into swamps when they's treated well. Folks that professes religion, I think, oughtn't to starve their niggers, no way!"
Soon the vehicle of Ben was also on the road. He gathered up the reins vigorously, threw back his head to get the full benefit of his lungs, and commenced a vehement camp-meeting melody, to the tune of
"Am I a soldier of the cross,
A follower of the Lamb?"
A hymn, by the by, which was one of Ben's particular favorites.