“No, I didn't, massa. I hain't been yere more'n a hour, and a tousand's a heap fur one ole ooman ter 'tend on,” she replied, filling a gourd from the bucket, and going with it to the dead boy.
She stooped down and held the water to his lips, but in a moment started back, and cried out in a frightened way,—“He'm dead! He can't drink no more!”
“He hain't dead!” yelled the man, fiercely; “he sha'n't die! Guv me the water, ole 'ooman.”
With a trembling hand, he tried to give it to his son. He held it to the boy's lips for a moment, then, dropping the gourd, and sinking to the ground, he cried out,—“It'll kill his mother,—kill his mother! Oh! oh!”
“He'm better off, massa,” said the woman, in a voice full of pity; “he'm whar he kin drink foreber ob de bery water ob life.”
“Gwo away, ole 'ooman,—gwo away,—doan't speak ter me!” moaned the man, throwing his arms around the body of his boy, and burying his face in the blanket he had wrapped about him.
Brushing her tears away with her apron, the woman turned to James, and said,—“Whar is ye hurted, honey? Leff aunty see.”
The little boy opened his jacket, and showed her his side. She could not see the wound, for the blood had glued his shirt, and even his waistcoat, to his body; but she said, kindly,—“Don't fret, honey. 'Tain't nuffin ter hurt,—it'll soon be well. Ole Katy'll borrer a blanket or so frum some o' dese as is done dead, and git ye warm; and den, when she's gub'n a little more water ter de firsty ones, she'll take a keer ob you,—she will, honey; so neber you f'ar.”
She went away, but soon came again with the blankets, and, wrapping two about him, and putting another under his head, said,—“Dar, honey, now you'll be warm; and neber you keer ef ole Katy hab borrer'd de blankets. Dey'll neber want 'em darselfs; and she knows it'll do dar bery souls good, eben whar dey is, ter know you's got 'em. So neber keer, and gwo ter sleep,—dat's a good chile. Aunty'll be yere agin in a jiffin.”
James thanked the good woman, and, closing his eyes again, soon fell asleep. The sun was right over his head, when old Katy awoke him, and said,—“Now, honey, Aunty's ready now. She'll tote you off ter de plantation, and hab you all well in less nur no time, she will; fur massa's 'way, and dar haint no 'un dar now ter say she sha'n't.”