“Anyhow, dey’s done done it.”
“Ho’ come you know so much ’bout it?”
“’Cause I seen ’em when dey done it.”
“Y-y-you have de face to stan’ da an’ tell me dat you seen ’em a-troublin’ dat chile an’ you not lif’ a han’ to help him?”
“How I gwine help him? G’long, you don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout.”
“Whar’bouts did dey come across him?” Mammy inquired.
“Right down yonder at de mill,” Jim answered, nodding his head in the direction.
“Good Lord,” exclaimed Mammy, “dey must ’a’ ketched him directly after he went away!”
This conversation was carried on in such low murmurings that even a listener at a short distance could not have distinguished what was said; the three were very intent, but did not omit occasional cautious glances in the direction of the house.
“Dat’s so,” Jim replied; “an’ den dey shet him up in de mill house, and den I never seed no mo’, ’cause I was skeered an’ runned away.”