I.
THE LANGUAGE OF THE ANIMALS.
The story of how Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla found their way into Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer country has been set forth, and many of the tales they heard there have been told. All of this matter has been put into a book, where the curious may now find it. This being so, it is not necessary to go over it again. Imitation is bad enough, but repetition is worse. It is enough to say, therefore, that these children whose names have been mentioned lived on a large plantation in Middle Georgia, in that part of the country where cotton grows, where the mocking-birds sing in the orchards, and where the roses bloom in the open air from April to November.
There is nothing tropical or even semi-tropical in Middle Georgia. The trees and shrubs and all of the wild flowers are much the same as those that grow in New England. The summers are not so hot nor the winters so long and cold in Middle Georgia as they are farther to the north; but warm weather lasts longer, and that is the reason that cotton and sugar-cane and watermelons can be raised in Middle Georgia in the open air.
The plantation on which the children lived appeared to be just like all the other plantations round about, but the youngsters had already found out that it was entirely different from the rest in some respects. So far as they knew, and they had made careful inquiries, there was no Mr. Thimblefinger on any one of the neighboring plantations, and there was no road leading from any other plantation to Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer country.
On Sundays when there was a big meeting going on at Mt. Zion church, and the congregation carried dinner in hamper baskets, Buster John and Sweetest Susan and Drusilla (their negro nurse and playmate) took pains to inquire among the children they met there if any of them had ever seen Mr. Thimblefinger. The reply was that they had not only never seen him, but had never even heard of him before. This made Buster John feel more important than ever, and Sweetest Susan said she was surprised and sorry that the other children should have failed to see Mr. Thimblefinger, and they so near his queer country, too. As for Drusilla, she declared that it made no difference, anyhow, “Kaze ef dey wuz ter see ’im wid der naked eyes dey wouldn’t b’lieve dey seed ’im.” But the neighbor-children said nothing, they simply stared at one another and concluded that Buster John and Sweetest Susan and Drusilla were trying to make fun of them.
If the neighbor-children had been wise, they would have asked some questions about Mr. Thimblefinger, and then they would have found out that the Abercrombie place, as it was called, was different from all the other plantations they had ever heard of, being the scene of some of Mr. Thimblefinger’s performances, and containing within its boundaries the gateway to Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer country, which lies next door to the world.
Those who have taken the trouble to read the book in which the stories told by Mr. Thimblefinger and his friends are partly set forth will remember that when Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla were on the point of returning home, they were asked if they knew a man named Aaron. To which Buster John replied that he ought to know Aaron, since he was foreman of the field-hands. Whereupon Buster John was told that Aaron was the Son of Ben Ali, and knew the language of animals. “If you want to learn this language,” said Mr. Rabbit, “go to Aaron, Son of Ben Ali, take him by his left hand, bend the thumb back, and with your right forefinger make a cross mark on it. Should Aaron pay no attention to it, repeat the sign. The third time he will know it.”
But the minds of the children were so busy thinking of what they had seen and heard that they forgot all about the matter. Once when Buster John chanced to remember what he had been told, Aaron happened to be ill in bed. Another time, when the children determined to find out something about the language of the animals, they found that Aaron was away from home. He had gone with the wagons to Augusta, one hundred miles away, to sell the year’s crop of cotton. Thus, in one way and another, Buster John, Sweetest Susan, and Drusilla were many long months older when they sought and found Aaron in his cabin than they were when they made their last visit to Mr. Thimblefinger’s queer country.
Now Aaron was the most remarkable slave in all the country round, not because he was tall and finely formed, nor because he carried himself as proudly as a military officer, but because he had a well-shaped head, a sharp black eye, thin lips, and a nose prominent, but not flat. Another remarkable feature was his hair, which, instead of being coarse and kinky, was fine, thick, wavy, glossy, and as black as jet.
The negroes on the place seemed to be very much afraid of him. This would not have been strange if Aaron had been an old man; negroes always stand in awe of those who are very old; but he was not above forty, and seemed to be even younger. There were many stories current about Aaron, which the negroes told to each other in whispers when their cabin fires burned low. One was that he was a conjurer, and in league with the “old boy.” This was because Aaron refused to associate with his fellow servants on terms of equality, and would allow them to take no liberties with him.