“But bimeby it ’gun ter dribble in fum some’rs; fus’ dem ar little shinplasters, an’ den de bigger money come ’long. It kep’ on dribblin’ in an’ dribblin’ in twel atter while you could git a dollar here an’ dar by workin’ yo’ han’s off, er spraining’ yo’ gizzard to git it. Bimeby de news got norated ’roun’ dat ol’ Joshaway Gossett gwine ter start a bank. Yasser! ol’ Joshaway Gossett. Dat make folks open der eyes an’ shake der head. I ’member de time, suh, when ol’ Joshaway wuz runnin’ a blacksmith shop out in de country. Den he sot in ter make waggins. Atter dat, he come ter be overseer fer Marse Bolivar Blasengame, but all de time he wuz overseein’ he wuz runnin’ de blacksmith shop an’ de waggin fact’ry.
“When de war come on, suh, dey say dat ol’ Joshaway tuck all de money what he been savin’ an’ change it inter gol’; de natchul stuff. An’ he had a pile un it. He kep’ dat up all endurin’ er de turmoil, and by de time freedom come out he had mo’ er de natchul stuff dan what Cyarter had oats. Dat what folks say, suh, an’ when eve’ybody talk one way you may know dey ain’t fur fum de trufe. Anyhow, de word went ’roun’ dat ol’ Joshaway gwine ter start a bank. Folks wa’n’t ’stonished ’kaze he had money, but bekaze he gwine ter start a bank, an’ he not much mo’ dan knowin’ B fum bullfoot. Some snicker, some laugh, an’ some make fun er ol’ Joshaway, but Marse Tumlin say dat ef he know how ter shave a note, he bleeze ter know how ter run a bank. I ain’t never see nobody shave a note, suh, but dat ’zackly what Marse Tumlin say.
“But ol’ Joshaway, he ain’t a-keerin’ what folks say. He start de bank, an’ he kep’ it up twel de time I’m gwine tell you ’bout. He bought ’im a big strong safe, an’ he had it walled up in de back er de bank, an’ dar ’twuz. Don’t make no diffunce what folks say ’bout ol’ Joshaway, dey can’t say he ain’t honest. He gwine ter have what’s his’n, an’ he want yuther folks fer ter have what’s der’n. When dat de case, ’tain’t no trouble ter git folks ter trus’ you. Dey put der money in ol’ Joshaway’s bank, whar he kin take keer un it, bekaze dey know’d he wa’n’t gwine ter run off wid it.
“Well, suh, de bank wuz runnin’ ’long des like ’twuz on skids, an’ de skids greased. Ol’ Joshaway ain’t move ter town, but he hired ’im a clerk, an’ de clerk stayed in de bank night an’ day, an’ I hear folks say de town wuz better’n bigger on ’count er ol’ Joshaway’s bank. I dunner how dey make dat out, ’kaze de bank wa’n’t much bigger dan de kitchen back dar. Anyhow, dar she wuz, and dar she stayed fer a time an’ a time.
“But one day Marse Tumlin Perdue tuck de notion dat he got ter borry some money. He seed yuther folks gwine in dar an’ borryin’ fum ol’ Joshaway, an’ he know he got des ez much bizness fer ter borry ez what dey is. Mo’ dan dat, when he had plenty er money an’ niggers, he done ol’ Joshaway many a good turn. I know’d dat myse’f, suh, an’ ’tain’t no hearsay; I done seed it wid my own eyes. On de day I’m talkin’ ’bout, Miss Vallie sont me up town fer ter ax Marse Tumlin kin he spar’ two dollars—dat wuz befo’ Miss Vallie wuz married; ’bout a mont’ befo’, an’ she wuz makin’ up her weddin’ fixin’s.
“’Twa’n’t no trouble ter fin’ Marse Tumlin. He wuz settin’ in de shade wid a passel er men. He seed me, he did, an’ he come ter meet me. When I tell ’im what Miss Vallie want, he kinder scratch his head an’ look sollum. He studied a minit, an’ den he tell me ter come go ’long wid ’im. He cut ’cross de squar’ an’ went right ter ol’ Joshaway’s bank, me a-follerin’ right at his heels. He went in, he did, an’ ’low, ‘Hello, Joshaway!’ Ol’ Joshaway, he say, ‘Howdy, Maje?’ He wuz settin’ in dar behime a counter what had wire palin’s on top un it, an’ he look fer all de worl’ like some ongodly creetur what dey put in a cage for ter keep ’im fum doin’ devilment.
“Marse Tumlin ’low, ‘Joshaway, I want ter borry a hunderd dollars for a mont’ er so.’ Ol’ Joshaway kinder change his cud er terbacker fum one side ter de yuther, an’ cle’r up his th’oat. He say, ‘Maje, right dis minit, I ain’t got fifty dollars in de bank.’ Nigger ez I is, I know’d dat wuz a lie, an’ I couldn’t help fum gruntin’ ef I wuz gwine to be kilt fer it. At dat ol’ Joshaway look up. Marse Tumlin stood dar drummin’ on de counter. Bimeby ol’ Joshaway say, ’Spoze’n I had it, Maje, who you gwine git fer yo’ skyority?’ des so. Marse Tumlin ’low, ‘Fer my what?” ‘Fer yo’ skyority,’ sez ol’ Joshaway. I up an’ say, ‘Des lissen at dat!’ Marse Tumlin ’low, ‘Who went yo’ skyority when I use ter loan you money?’ ‘Times is done change, Maje,’ sez ol’ Joshaway. Marse Tumlin flirted de little gate open, an’ went ’roun’ in dar so quick it made my head swim. He say, ‘I ain’t change!’ an’ wid dat, he took ol’ Joshaway by de coat-collar an’ cuff’d ’im ’roun’ considerbul. He ain’t hurt ol’ Joshaway much, but he call ’im some names dat white folks don’t fling at one an’er widout dey’s gwine ter be blood-lettin’ in de neighborhoods.
“Den Marse Tumlin come out fum behime de counter, an’ stood in de do’ an’ look up town. By dat time I wuz done out on de sidewalk, ’kaze I don’t want no pistol-hole in my hide. When it come ter fa’r fis’ an’ skull, er a knock-down an’ drag-out scuffle, I’m wid you; I’m right dar; but deze yer guns an’ pistols what flash an’ bang an’ put out yo’ lights—an’ maybe yo’ liver—when it come ter dem, I lots druther be on t’er side de fence. Well, suh, I fully ’spected ol’ Joshaway to walk out atter Marse Tumlin wid de double-bairl gun what I seed behime de counter; an’ Marse Tumlin ’spected it, too, ’kaze he walk up an’ down befo’ de bank, an’ eve’y once in a while he’d jerk his wescut down in front like he tryin’ ter t’ar de bindin’ off. Bimeby I see Marse Bolivar Blasengame git up fum whar he settin’ at, an’ here he come, swingin’ his gol’-head cane, an’ sa’nt’in’ ’long like he gwine on a promenade.
“I know’d by dat, suh, dat Marse Bolivar been watchin’ Marse Tumlin’s motions, an’ he seed dat trouble er some kind wuz on han’. He walk up, he did, an’ atter he cut his eye at Marse Tumlin, he turn ter me an’ laugh ter hisse’f—he had de purtiest front teef you mos’ ever is see, suh—an’ he ’low, ‘Well, dang my buttons, ef here ain’t ol’ Minervy Ann, de warhoss fum Wauhoo! Wharsomever dey’s trouble, dar’s de ol’ warhoss fum Wauhoo.’ Wid dat, he lock arms wid Marse Tumlin, an’ dey march off down de street, me a-follerin’. You ain’t kin fin’ two men like dem anywhar an’ eve’ywhar. Dey wa’n’t no blood-kin—dey married sisters—but dey wuz lots closer dan br’ers. Hit one an’ you’d hurt de yuther, an’ den ef you wa’n’t ready ter git in a scuffle wid two wil’-cats, you better leave town twel dey cool off.
“Well, suh, dey ain’t took many steps ’fo’ dey wuz laughin’ an’ jokin’ des like two boys. Ez we went up de street Marse Tumlin drapt in a sto’ er two an’ tol’ um dat ol’ Joshaway Gossett vow’d dat he ain’t got fifty cash dollars in de bank. Dish yer money news is de kin’ what spreads, an’ don’t you fergit it. It spread dat day des like powder ketchin’ fire an’ ’twa’n’t no time ’fo’ you could see folks runnin’ ’cross de squar’ des like dey er rabbit-huntin’, an’ by dinner-time dey wa’n’t no bank dar no mo’ dan a rabbit. Folks say dat ol’ Joshaway try mighty hard ter ’splain matters, but dem what had der money in dar say dey’d take de spondulix fus’ an’ listen ter de ’splainin’ atterwards. ’Long to’rds de noon-hour ol’ Joshaway hatter fling up his han’s. All de ready money done gone, an’ folks at de do’ hollin’ fer dat what dey put in dar. I dunner how he ever got ’way fum dar, ’kaze dey wuz men in dat crowd ripe ter kill ’im; but he sneaked out an’ went home, an’ lef’ some un else fer ter win’ up de shebang.