"No—I mean Uncle Ike's cottage. He's the foreman of the farm. We have no white overseer."
Phil was shocked. He had supposed every Southern plantation had a white overseer as slave driver with a blacksnake whip in his hand. A negro foreman was incredible. As a matter of fact there were more negro foremen than white overseers in the South.
In Uncle Ike's cottage by the light of many candles the school for boys was in session. Custis' brother "Rooney," was the teacher. He had six pupils besides Sam. Not one of them knew his lesson to-night and Rooney was furious.
As Phil and Custis entered, he was just finishing a wrathful lecture.
His pupils were standing in a row grinning their apologies.
"I've told you boys for the last three weeks that I won't stand this. You don't have to go to school to me if you don't want to. But if you join my school you've got to study. Do you hear me?"
"Yassah!" came the answer in solid chorus.
"Well, you'll do more than hear me to-night. You're going to heed what I say. I'm going to thrash the whole school."
Sam broke into a loud laugh. And a wail of woe came from every dusky figure.
"Dar now!"
"Hear dat, folks—?"