“‘I want to be your servant an’ lib always wif you,’ says de reindeer. An’ from dat minute to dis de reindeer an’ his chilluns have been totin’ fer ole Santy.
“An’ you listen yeah, honey. If you borrow Bre’r Rabbit’s ears to hear wif dis Chris’mus p’raps you’ll cotch de tromp o’ de reindeer’s hoofs an’ de jingle o’ his bells as he totes ole Santy through de night.”
David laughed happily.
“That’s a bully story, Uncle Joab, just a bully one!”
The old man chuckled appreciatively.
“Mebbe it’s good enough to fotch a li’l’ boy back some other day to see dis ole nigger.”
Johanna and Barney had to hear the story over twice before David went to bed that night. They seemed to like it as much as David had liked it.
“It must get pretty lonesome for the poor man, stormy days and long winter nights with no company but that old fiddle,” mused Johanna at last.
“Faith, I wouldn’t be minding a bit o’ that same company, myself, some night,” laughed Barney. “’Tis a sorry time since I’ve heard any good fiddling.”
But David did not say anything. He was looking deep into the fire and thinking very hard.