"I thankee, sah," the negro rejoined; "yas, I thankee, sah, fur I jest wanted ter be satisfied in my mine, an' I tell you dat when er pusson is troubled in his mine he's outen fix sho nuff. Hurry up dar, Tildy, wid you snack, fur deze genermen is a-haungry."
"I hope she won't get it ready any too soon," I whispered to Alf, and he, with his face close to mine, replied: "You can trust an old negro woman for that. It won't take Parker very long to ride over to the General's house, and they can pick up father on the way back."
"Won't your mother and—and Guinea be frightened?"
"Not much. They've seen the old man go out on the war path more than once. Let's see what they are doing now."
Scott had taken the banjo and was turning it over, looking at it. We saw him take out a knife and then with a twang he cut the strings. "Good Lawd!" exclaimed the negro, and his wife turned from the fire with a look of sorrow and reproach, for the distressful sound had told her accustomed ear that a calamity had befallen the instrument. "Now jest look whut you done!" the negro cried, and his wife, wiping her hands on her apron, looked at Scott Aimes and said: "Ef dat's de way you gwine ack, I'll burn dis yere braid an' fling dis yere meat in de fire. Er body workin' fur you ez hard ez I is, an' yere you come er doin' dat way. It's er shame, sah, dat's whut it is. It's er plum shame, I doan kere ef you is white an me black."
Scott roughly tossed the banjo into a corner and laughed. "Sounds a blamed sight better in death than in life," said he.
"But who gwine pay fur dat death music?" the negro asked.
"Pay for it!" Scott turned fiercely upon the negro and Alf caught up his gun. "Wait!" I whispered.
"Pay for it!" Scott raved. "Why you infernal old scoundrel, do we have to pay every time we turn round? But we'll make it all right with you," he added, turning away; and Alf lowered his gun.
"I hopes ter de Lawd you will," said the woman, "fur we needs it bad enough."