Pete turned away with an injured expression on his dark face. “Bess,” he said to the spirited black mare, as he led her toward the stables, “you jes’ better t’ank yo’ Makah dat you ain’t no human bein’, ’ca’se human bein’s is cur’ous articles. Now you’s a horse, ain’t you? And dey say you ain’t got no soul, but you got sense, Bess, you got sense. You’s a high steppah, too, but you don’ go to work an’ try to brek yo’ naik de fus’ chanst you git. Bess, I ’spect you ’ca’se you got jedgment, an’ you don’ have to have a black man runnin’ aftah you all de time plannin’ his head off jes’ to keep you out o’ trouble. Some folks dat’s human bein’s does. Yet an’ still, Bess, you ain’t nuffin’ but a dumb beas’, so dey says. Now, what I gwine to do? Co’se dey wants to fight. But whah an’ when an’ how I gwine to stop hit? Doan want me to wait on him to-night, huh! No, dey want to mek dey plans an’ do’ want me ’roun’ to hyeah, dat’s what’s de mattah. Well, I lay I’ll hyeah somep’n’ anyhow.”
Peter hurried through his work and took himself up to the big house and straight to his master’s room. He heard voices within, but though he took many liberties with his owner, eavesdropping was not one of them. It proved too dangerous. So, though he lingered on the mat, it was not for long, and he unceremoniously pushed the door open and walked in. With a great show of haste, he made for his master’s wardrobe and began busily searching among the articles therein. Harrison Randolph and his cousin were in the room, and their conversation, which had been animated, suddenly ceased when Peter entered.
“I thought I told you I didn’t want you any more to-night.”
“I’s a-lookin’ fu’ dem striped pants o’ yo’n. I want to tek ’m out an’ bresh ’em; dey’s pintly a livin’ sight.”
“You get out o’ here.”
“But, Mas’ Ha’ison, now—now—look-a-hyeah—”
“Get out, I tell you.”
Pete shuffled from the room, mumbling as he went: “Dah now, dah now! driv’ out lak’ a dog! How’s I gwine to fin’ out anyt’ing dis way? It do ’pear lak Mas’ Ha’ison do try to give me all de trouble he know how. Now he plannin’ and prijickin’ wif dat cousin Dale an’ one jes’ ez scattah-brained ez de othah. Well, I ’low I got to beat dis time somehow er ruther.”
He was still lingering hopeless and worried about the house when he saw young Dale Randolph come out, mount his horse, and ride away. After a while his young master also came out and walked up and down in the soft evening air. The rest of the family were seated about on the broad piazza.
“I wonder what is the matter with Harrison to-night,” said the young man’s father, “he seems so preoccupied.”