"Well, I shouldn't like sich salt on my shoulder, aldo dey say, salt bery good to keep de wound from catching cold."
"I tell you what, darkey," cried the constable, losing patience at the other's sneers. "You talk like an old fool. If you hain't got anything pleasanter to say, you might as well shut up."
"Yes, I be an old fool," said Primus, as if speaking to himself, "and dis is all de tank I git from dis white man. I depose my life on de ribber. I git a'most murdered when de ghost kick him behind; he break my leg made out ob a good piece ob ash; I invite him to my house, like a gen'leman, and de civilest word I get, is—darkey and old fool. Yes, Primus, you complexion is dark, and you be a big fool."
"Don't take on so, Prime," said Basset; "I spoke rash, and I ask your pardon. But, what's the use of aggravating a man in that way!"
"I tink you must 'scuse my keeping company wid you, arter to-night," continued Primus, looking steadily into the fire, and knitting his brows; "I nebber get noting but bad luck in his sarvice. Next time, I git my neck broke, and den 'tis all done wid dis poor niggur. De carpenter find hard work to make one to fit."
"Now, Prime," said Basset, "you're rather too hard. I asked your pardon, and that's all a man can do. I'm sure I didn't mean to set you agoing at this rate."
"It bery easy, Massa Basset, to say I ask you pardon, and bery polite for a white man to say it to a colored pusson, but does dat pay for de breaking ob a leg or de setting ob my neck?"
"What did it cost to mend your leg?"
"I gib Fannin, de carpenter, a halb dollar for a new one dat wasn't half so good as de ole one."
"Well, I vow, that's considerable for an old stick, 'cause I know there wasn't no new iron work about it, for you had the old ferule left; but seeing as how I broke it, I'll split the difference with you, so there's a quarter. But why didn't you speak of it afore?"