“I k-k-k-co-co-o-ld!”
“Well, well, where is you now?”
“In—in de—b-b-bucket!”
Mrs. Templin then directed the mother to urge the child to hold fast to the rope while she herself would turn the windlass.
“Dar now, you heah dat? Mis’s say she wan’ my nice li’ll darky to ketch tight hold to der rope—tight as a tick; an’ she say she gwine draw him up with her own blessed hands. Mis’s say she can’t ’ford to lose likely li’ll fellow like my li’ll Ike, dat she can’t. Ye heah, mammy’s precious suga’ lump?”
“E-e-e-e-th, ’m!”
The winding began, and the mother, being urged to encourage Ike as much as possible during the ascent, did as well as she could by such cheering remarks as these:
“Jes’ look at dat! Mis’s givin’ her li’ll niggah such a nice ride! En Mis’s done tole mammy tah kill six chickens, an’ fry one o’m an’ brile one o’m an’ make pie out of de rest, an’ all for li’ll Iky’s dinner; an’ she say she gwine make daddy barb’cue two pigs dis very evenin’, and nobody ain’t to tech a mou’f’l on’m cep’n li’ll Iky if he’ll holt on tah de well-rope. An’ she say, Mis’s do, she jes’ know her great big li’ll Ike ain’t gwine to let dat rope loose an’ not get all dem goodies!”
It is possible that in so brief a time never was promised a greater number of luxuries to a child born to loftiest estate. Chickens, ducks—indeed the whole poultry yard was more than exhausted; every pig on the plantation was done to a turn. During the ascent little Ike was informed that eatables of every description would be at his disposal forever. The time does not suffice to tell of other rewards promised in the name of the munificent mistress, in the way of cakes, pies, syllabubs, gold and silver and costly apparel. All this while, Mrs. Templin, without uttering a word, turned the windlass, slowly, steadily.
When the bucket with its contents reached the top, and was safely lodged upon the ledge, the mother seized her precious darling, his teeth chattering the while with chill, and dragging him fiercely forth, said in wrathful tones: