"'Yess'm, dat's right,' he says. 'But I'se countin' de money one day an' a span ob mules broke loose an' stahts lickety-brindle fo' de bahn, an' aimin' to ketch de mules, I pokes de money in de pocket wid de hole. I ain' neber see dat no-'coun' money sence.'
"Miss Goodloe looks at the ole nigger fur a minute.
"'Uncle Jake … oh, Uncle Jake …' she says. 'These are the things I just can't stand!' Her eyes fill up, 'n' while she bites her lip agin, it ain't no use. Two big tears roll down her cheeks. 'I'll see you in a moment,' she says to me, 'n' goes inside.
"'Bad times! Bad times, pow'ful bad times!' says Uncle Jake, 'n' hobbles away a-mutterin' to hisself.
"It's begun to get under my skin right. I'm feelin' queer, 'n' I gets to thinkin' I'd better beat it. 'Don't be a damn fool!' I says to myself. 'You ain't had nothin' to do with the cussed business 'n' you can't help it none. If you don't buy this colt somebody else will.' So I sets on the edge of the porch 'n' waits. It ain't so long till Miss Goodloe comes out again. I gets up 'n' takes off my hat.
"'What horse do you wish to buy?' she says.
"'A big chestnut colt by Calabash, dam Mary Goodloe,' I says. 'They tell me you own him.'
"'Oh, I can't sell him!' she says, backin' towards the door. 'No one has ever ridden him but me.'
"'Is he fast?' I asks her.
"'Of course,' she says.