The balance being thus struck, the captain drew his cowhide and remarked——“Now, Tony, you black scamp, what say you, you lazy villain, why I shouldn’t give you fifteen lashes across your back, as hard as I can draw?”
“Stop, ole mass,” said Tony; “dar’s de work in de garden, sir—dat ought to tek some off.”
“You black dog,” said the captain, “haven’t I given you the proper credit of ten stripes for that? Come, come!”
“Please, ole massa,” said Tony, rolling his eyes about in agony of fright—“dar’s—you forgot—dar’s de scourin ob de floor—ole missus say nebber been scour as good before.”
“Soho, you saucy rascal,” quoth Captain Stick, “you’re bringing in more offsets, are you? Well, now, there!” Here the captain made an entry upon his book. “You have a credit of five stripes, and the balance must be paid.”
“Gor a mity, massa, don’t hit yet—dar’s sumpen else—oh, Lord! please don’t—yes, sir—got um now—ketchin de white boy and fetchin’ um to ole missus, what trow rock at de young duck.”
“That’s a fact,” said the captain; “the outrageous young vagabond—that’s a fact, and I’ll give you credit of ten stripes for it. I wish you had brought him to me. Now, we’ll settle the balance.”
“‘STOP, OLE MASS,’ SAID TONY; ‘DAR’S DE WORK IN DE GARDEN, SIR.’”
“Bress de Lord, ole massa,” said Tony, “dat’s all.” Tony grinned extravagantly. The captain adjusted his tortoise-shell spectacles with great exactness, held the book close to his eyes, and ascertained that the fact was as stated by Tony. He was not a little irritated.