“Dat w’at I wuz feared un,” said Sandy Bill.
“Feared er what?” asked Big Sam.
“Feared you’d holler at Marster ef you seed whar dey landed. Dat how come I ter run foul er yo’ boat.”
“Look yer, nigger man, you ain’t done gone ’stracted, is you?”
“Shoo, chile! don’t talk ter me ’bout gwine ’stracted. I got ez much sense ez Ole Zip Coon.”
“Den whyn’t you tell Marster? Ain’t you done see how he troubled in he min’?”
“I done see dat, en it makes me feel bad; but t’er folks got trouble, too, lots wuss’n Marster.”
“Is dey los’ der chillun?”
“Yes—Lord! dey done los’ eve’ybody. But Marster ain’t los’ no chillun yit.”
“Den wat we doin’ way down yer?” asked Big Sam in an angry tone.