"I dunno, sah, sartin."
"Matt, I don't believe a word you say; first tell me the truth."
"Massar Benton, you're a queer man. Dis niggah shan't tell you no lies, but de Lord's truf, I dunno noffin 'bout."
"You don't know me either, do you?" and he laughed ironically.
"Never thought I did," said Matthias; "'pears like long ways back I see some face like yours, but I dunno. Good many faces looks alike roun' yere."
"Yes, yes," says Benton, "you've said enough, you black rascal; and you mark my words, if you've raised the devil, as I think you have, I'll cowhide you. I'll give you something to remember me by, you old fool; and you a'nt a fool either; you're as cunning as Satan is wicked."
"De Lord forgive you," said Matthias, "you're done gone clar from your senses. I dunno who dat gal is, an I dunno who you is, an' what more kin I say?"
"I know who you are, and I know you were the slave of Sumner down in South Carolina."
"Yaas," said Matthias, "dat's so; but how does you know 'bout me? Did you come down thar? 'Haps dat's de reason you're face kinder makes me look back, an it mos' allus does; 'pears like you mout explain."
"Yes, s'pose I mout," said Benton, "and I reckon you will before we get through."