“Sho’s you bawn. Now des lemme pick you er chune on dis banjer ’fo I goes ter my wuk.”
Of all the music he had ever heard, the boy thought Nelse’s banjo was the sweetest. He accompanied the music in a deep bass voice which he kept soft and soothing. The boy sat entranced. With wide open eyes and half parted lips he dreamed his mother was well, and then that he had grown to be a man, a great man, rich and powerful. Now he was the Governor of the state, living in the Governor’s palace, and his mother was presiding at a banquet in his honour. He was bending proudly over her and whispering to her that she was the most beautiful mother in the world. And he could hear her say with a smile, “You dear boy!”
Suddenly the banjo stopped, and Nelse railed with mock severity, “Now look at ’im er cryin’ ergin, en me er pickin’ de eens er my fingers off fur ’im!”
“No, I aint cryin’. I am just listenin’ to the music. Nelse, you’re the greatest banjo player in the world!”
“Na, honey, hits de banjer. Dats de Jo-bloin’est banjer! En des ter t’ink—er Yankee gin’er to me in de wah! Dat wuz the fus’ Yankee I ebber seed hab sense enuf ter own er banjer. I kinder hate ter fight dem Yankees atter dat.”
“But Nelse, if you were fighting with our men how did you get close to any Yankees?”
“Lawd child, we’s allers slippin’ out twixt de lines atter night er carryin’ on wid dem Yankees. We trade ’em terbaccer fur coffee en sugar, en play cyards, en talk twell mos’ day sometime. I slip out fust in er patch er woods twix’ de lines, en make my banjer talk. En den yere dey come! De Yankees fum one way en our boys de yudder. I make out lak I doan see ’em tall, des playin’ ter myself. Den I make dat banjer moan en cry en talk about de folks way down in Dixie. De boys creep up closer en closer twell dey right at my elbow en I see ’em cryin’, some un ’em—den I gin’er a juk! en way she go pluckety plunck! en dey gin ter dance and laugh! Sometime dey cuss me lak dey mad en lam me on de back. When dey hit me hard den I know dey ready ter gimme all dey got.”
“But how did you get this banjo, Nelse?”
“Yankee gin’er ter me one night ter try’er, en when he hear me des fairly pull de insides outen ’er, he ’low dat hit ’ed be er sin ter ebber sep’rate us. Say he nebber know what ’uz in er banjer.”
Nelse rose to go.