Somebody must have conjured her. Those long half-drowsy spells were not natural, and sometimes she sobbed in the night, hag-ridden with evil dreams. Jeems must be killed for Joy to eat.
Big Sue waked Breeze early. She gave him no chance to dawdle, for much had to be done in preparation. Joy offered to help, but Big Sue made her stay in bed and rest. Breeze washed the sleep out of his eyes, then tipped to Joy’s bedside for a word from her, but the dawn showed her eyes closed, and her quiet regular breathing told him she was sleeping. He turned his eyes away quickly to keep them from waking her.
Before the sun was up he had the big washpot in the yard, brimming full of water and a fire built under it. Uncle Bill brought a sound barrel and laid it slantwise and steady in a dug out place in the ground. He’d scald Jeems in that.
He took out his great pocket knife and opening its longest blade told Breeze to look how its sharp point was flashing! That knife was trained. It had sense like people. It was pure itching to stick in Jeems’ throat and slice his neck in two. When he had to kill a hog, he just pointed that knife blade toward the beast and gave it a push. It would fairly leap to the right spot. It never missed the big vein. His eyes twinkled with affection for his faithful tool as he ran a thick thumb lightly over its keen edge and felt its shining point.
“You hold em, Breeze, till I get de ax. De ax has to do a li’l’ work ahead o’ de knife.”
As he walked toward the wood-pile, Big Sue hurried out. “Do don’ knock Jeems, Uncle Bill!” She panted anxiously.
“I’m ’bliged to stun em, honey!”
“You’ll ruin all de brains.”
“I can’ help dat, Miss Big Sue. I couldn’ stick Jeems whilst he was in his right mind. No, ma’am.”
“Knockin’ a hog on de head makes de head cheese all bloody. Please don’ do dat! Go on an’ stick em. Don’ knock em!”