“Dey’s down dar,” returned the negro, pointing with his finger, “down in dat holler—spunkerblued.”
“Not killed, I hope,” asked Lawrence, anxiously.
“Oh no, massa, on’y spunkerblued—stuffed to de muzzle wid deir own self-will.”
Lawrence received this explanation with a light laugh. “Come,” he said, quickly, “lead the way, Quash, and I’ll show you how to get them out of the spunkerblues.”
Comforted and reassured by his master’s hearty tone and manner, the negro led the way to the spot where he had spent such a busy day.
Now, we do not know whether we have made it obvious to the reader that Lawrence Armstrong’s kindliness of nature embraced not only the human race but the whole animal kingdom. At all events it is true that wherever he came in contact with the lower animals he managed by some species of fascination to gain their affections. The mode of fascination began, no doubt, with their stomachs, but this does not alter the fact. Among other creatures Lawrence had gained the affections of Quashy’s steed, and also of Manuela’s and Pedro’s horses, as well as his own, by means of sugar. With this simple appliance he went into the hollow, and held out his hand.
“Come, Ole Scrubby,” he cried, using Quashy’s words.
With a cheerful neigh the rebellious one trotted up, received the sugar, and suffered himself to be led once more into servitude.
“Even among the brutes, Quash,” he remarked, as he patted the nose of his own steed, “we are meant to ‘overcome evil with good.’ Come, we must spend another night here, for it is too late to start off now; besides, I am tired out, and starving.”
“Massa,” returned Quashy, as they mounted, “I’s done up to dat extent, an’ so hungry, I could sleep on prickly pears, an’ heat my wittles raw.”