Randall shifted from one foot to the other and looked, first, at Mr. Sanders, and then at all of the others in turn. "Well, suh, Mr. Sanders, I call myse'f Holden bekaze they ain't no Bowdens fer me ter be named after. Marster's dead, Mistiss is dead, an' Miss Betty is done gone an' changed her name by—er—gittin' married. De Holdens ain't all dead yit, an' my mistiss wuz a Holden proceedin' the day she married marster. I felt like I want ter be named after somebody that wuz alive."
"What have you been doing all this time?" old Jonas asked in his sharpest and curtest tone.
"Workin' hard all day, an' studyin' hard at night, suh. I laid off ter be a preacher. In four years, I reckon I has been to school about one year. I can read a little, an' write a little, an' maybe do some easy figgerin'. It looks like that books git harder the more you fool with 'em. That's what I find about 'em. I jest come ter see my mammy, suh, an' she come up on me while I was playin' Boogerman with the little mistiss there."
"Doing what?" snapped old Jonas; and then Mr. Sanders had to relate the wonderful adventures that befell Adelaide and him in the Whish-Whish Woods. How he did it must be imagined, but old Jonas listened patiently to the end, without uttering so much as the habitual "pish-tush."
"Sanders," said old Jonas, when the narrative of the expedition was concluded, "do you mean to stand there and tell me that you, a man old enough to be a grandfather, got in that rig, and went trampling about in my garden, just to give that child a little pleasure?"
"Why, no, Jonas, I can't say that I did; I sorter had the idee that I mought git my name in your will, seein' as how you're so abominably fond of Adelaide. That's why I come!"
It was at this point that Jonas's "pish-tush" did execution; he fired it at Mr. Sanders with as much energy as indignation could give.
Randall, the Boogerman, was evidently somewhat in doubt of old Jonas's disposition in regard to him, and so he said, with every appearance of embarrassment: "I can't stay here long, suh, bekaze they's people in this county that would Ku-Kluck me ef they know'd I was anywheres around. I'm the one, suh, that knocked Mr. Tuttle in the head with my hoe-handle when he was marster's overseer. I didn't go ter do it, suh, but he pecked on me an' pecked on me twel I didn't have the sense I was born with. It looked like somebody had flung a red cloth over my head; ev'rything got red, an' when I come ter myse'f Mr. Tuttle was layin' there on the ground jest as still as ef he'd a' been a log of wood. I know'd mighty well that ef they cotch me I'd be hung, bekaze that was the law in them times; Miss Betty tol' me so. I got away from there, an' run home; but before I got there, I could hear white folks a-hollerin', an' then I know'd they was after me. I run right in the big house, an' went up stairs the back way, an' before I could stop myse'f I run right in Miss Betty's room. She was in there combing her hair; she'd been having a party, the first one after she come back frum college."
"Wasn't she frightened?" old Jonas inquired. "Didn't she scream and raise a row?"
"No, suh," replied Randall, the Boogerman; "she wa'n't no more skeer'd than what you is right now. She say, 'How dast you ter come in here?' But by ther time she seed the blood runnin' down my face where Mr. Tuttle had hit me, an' time she looked ag'in, I was down on my knees, sayin' a prayer to her. I tol' her that the white folks was after me, an' begged her not ter let 'em git me. I know'd that the way to the top of the house led through her room, an' that was the reason I run in there—I thought she was down stairs lookin' after her party. I begged an' prayed so hard that she went to the door leadin' to the plunder room under the roof, an' flung it open with, 'Go up there, an' keep still; don't you dast to make any fuss!' Well, suh, up I went, an' I stayed there twel I could git away. Ef any of you-all know where Miss Betty is, an' will tell me, I'll go right whar she is an' work fer her twel she gits tired of bein' worked fer."