"No, seh," cried Alek, brightly; "I'm gwine tell you, Mist' Bryant. I gwine tell you erbout dat knife. Mist' Bryant," he asked, solemnly, "does you know who b'longs ter dat knife?"
"No, I—"
"Well, I gwine tell. I gwine tell who, Mr Bryant—" The old man drew himself to a stately pose and held forth his arm. "I gwine tell who, Mist' Bryant, dish yer knife b'longs ter Sam Jackson!"
"THE OLD MAN DREW HIMSELF TO A STATELY POSE"
Bryant was startled into indignation. "Who in hell is Sam Jackson?" he growled.
"He's a nigger," said Alek, impressively, "and he wuks in er lumber-yawd up yere in Hoswego."