“Why, you are quite at home here, Gabriel! How did you ever find such a place?”
“Lor’, mass’, knowd it long time. He not de fust darkie who hid in dis old cypress,—nor de fust time for Gabr’l neider. He runaway afore,—dat war when he libbed with Mass’ Hicks, ’fore ole mass’ bought him. He nebber had ’casion to run away from old Mass ’Sançon. He good to de brack folks, and so war Mass Antoine—he good too, but now de poor nigga can’t stan no longer; de new oberseer, he flog hard,—he flog till do blood come,—he use de cobbin board, an dat pump, an de red cowhide, an de wagon whip,—ebberything he use,—dam! I nebber go back,—nebber!”
“But how do you intend to live? you can’t always exist in this way. Where will you get your provisions?”
“Nebber fear, mass’ Edwad, always get nuff to eat; no fear for dat. Da poor runaway hab some friend on de plantations. Beside he steal nuff to keep ’im ’live—hya! hya!”
“Oh!”
“Gabr’l no need steal now, ’ceptin’ de roasting yeers and de millyuns. See! what Zip fetch im! Zip come las night to de edge ob de woods an’ fetch all dat plunder. But, mass’, you ’skoose me. Forgot you am hungry. Hab some pork some chicken. Chloe cook ’em—is good—you eat.”
So saying he set the wooden platter with its contents before me; and the conversation was now interrupted, as both myself and my companion attacked the viands with right good-will.
The “millyuns” constituted a delicious dessert, and for a full half-hour we continued to fight against the appetite of hunger. We conquered it at length, but not until the store of the runaway had been greatly reduced in bulk.
After dinner we sat conversing for a long time. We were not without the soothing nicotian weed. My companion had several bunches of dry tobacco-leaf among his stores; and a corn-cob with a piece of cane-joint served for a pipe, through which the smoke was inhaled with all the aromatic fragrance of the costliest Havanna.
Partly from gratitude for the saving of my life, I had grown to feel a strong interest in the runaway, and his future prospects became the subject of our converse. He had formed no plan of escape—though some thoughts of an attempt to reach Canada or Mexico, or to get off in a ship by New Orleans, had passed through his mind.