"It may be so, suh, in some parts of the country and amongst some people, but it ain't that-away wid me—I may come to it, suh, but I ain't come to it yit."
Randall finished the shoes, and offered to black those of the other men present, but they declined, and then old Jonas fished around in his pocket for a shin-plaster small enough to fit the job that had been done. He found a ragged one that faintly promised to pay the bearer five cents on demand, but Randall recoiled from it, and held up his hands in protest. "No, suh! Oh, no, suh! It was wuth all I done jest to hear you-all gentermens talkin' kinder friendly like. Ef you-all had all the trouble I uv done had, all the time dodgin' an' lookin roun' cornders fer fear er Mr. Tuttle er some er his kinnery—he's got um all up dar whar I been—you'd be mo' than thankful for to hear some un talkin' like de nex' minnit ain't 'gwine ter be de las'. I done got it proned inter me that I'm gwine for to be Ku-Klucked long 'fo' I have gray ha'r. You dunner how nice it is for to have white folks talkin' like they ain't gwine to kill you yet awhile."
To any one who knew little of the negro race, Randall's remarks would have sounded tremendously like a sly joke, with a little irony thrown in for good measure; but though the negro's voice was soft and deliberate, he was terribly in earnest, and those who heard him understood and appreciated this simple recital of a harrowing experience already behind him, and his lively fear of something worse to come.
"Well, when you get to be a bishop," remarked old Jonas, "I expect you to come and black my shoes."
"I'll do it, suh, an' be glad to do it. Des take yo' stan' anywhere, jest so it's a public place, an' holla at me, an' tell me you want yo' shoes blacked. I'll do it, suh, in the face of ten thousand."
"I believe you would!" exclaimed old Jonas almost gleefully.
"You don't hafter b'lieve me, suh; jest holla at me, an' yo shoes'll be blacked."
With that, Randall started out of the room, but Mr. Sanders raised his hand. "B'ar in mind, Boogerman, that you're not to leave the lot after dark. Old Tuttle is a rank Radical, an' a nigger-lover for what revenue thar is in it, but he's fixin' up his tricks for to give you a taste of the Radical-Republican movement, an' he's got to be watched. We'll do the watchin' ef you'll do the hidin'."
"I'll be more than glad to do that, suh," said Randall, with invincible politeness—"mo' than glad. I uv got so now, sence freedom come, that I can hide most as good as I can eat; an' when I say that, you may know it means sump'n."
"I reckon it does," said old Jonas, "something to me!"