“Wal, dey was forty on ’em, mighty nigh de same age, wid a fair sprinklin’ of sorrels an’ browns, whilst sum look lak dey mouten be made outen new saddles an’ jinger cakes. It went agin me mightily to be pestered wid all er dem new colts wid dey projeckin’ ways, but I had a big bottle of apple brandy an’ tuck a little consolashun frum it now an’ den myse’f, an’ eb’ry time a kid ’ud wake up, I’d jes gin ’im a stiff drink ob apple brandy an’ stick de big toe ob de kid jes’ above him in hes mouth ter suck on twell he dosed off. Dey was three long rows on ’em. I’ll sw’ar, boss, ef onct I didn’t hab ’em all konnected dat away lak links in a sausage. Dat an’ de brandy focht ’em eb’ry time an’ I was jes’ chucklin’ ter myse’f at whut a fine nuss I was, an’ dat I c’u’d soon be able to go out an’ hug de gals, too, when dey all commence to hab de jim-jams in dey sleep—seein’ snakes an’ things an’ howlin’ an’ wigglin’, an’ frum de way some on ’em’s eyes bulged out dey must er had ellerfants an’ rinocerasses arter ’em, too. Wal, suh, I broke fur de stable an’ got a quart bottle ob stuff we gin de mules fur de colic—asserfedity an’ h’artshorn, ladernum an’ tu’pentine, all mixed—an’ den I got de vinerger funnel to git it down, an’ I drenched eb’ry one on ’em wild dat mule medercine, stuck eb’ry one’s toe in de naixt one’s month an’ put ’em ter sleep ergin.

“Sum on ’em didn’t wake up fur a week, but dat ain’t de tale I’m tellin’ now.

“I tuck ernuver drink outen de bottle an’ den I happen ter see one ob de lam’s dat struck my eye. He was de preacher’s kid, whose daddy, a yaller feller, ole mistis had l’arned ’im to read an’ write an’ he tuck to preachin’, and his lam’ wus a bright sorrel wid flax mane an’ tail, an’ as he was erbout de size ob my little coon I thou’t I’d play a joke on de wimmin folks, bein’ es how Dinah was sot on habin’ a yaller kid. So I ups an’ changes de clothes an’ puts de yaller preacher’s lam’ on our sheepskin an’ ourn on de yuther’s pallet. Wal, suh, de mo’ I thort of it de funnier it seemed, an’ den I laffed twell I nearly wake ’em up again an’ tuck ernuver drink an’ went in ter swap ’em all off. I’d pick out two erbout de same size an’ sex an’ changed dey clothes an’ bed, an’ when I got through dere wa’nt nary one on’ em dat u’d know hisse’f from de naixt one, an’ es dey all smelt erlike I didn’t see how dey mammies was eber gwine ter git ’em straight ergin. Course I ’spected a lot ob fun when de games broke up an’ I tuck ernuver drink an’ fix fur ter see it. But hit seems de niggers played on twell one o’clock an’ forgot all erbout time ontwell one ob de patteroles—de mounted poleece dot kept niggers from prowlin’ at night in dem days—rid up wid a hickory whip an’ tole ’em it wus time fur to go to bed. Dis skeered ’em so dey all lit out an’ eb’ry ’oman jes’ bundled up her baby an’ left, an’ not one ob ’em knowed de difference. Es dey all libbed from one ter ten miles aroun’ on de farms, thinks I, dar’ll be lots ob fun in de mawnin’! Dinah tuck ernuver look at hern befo’ she went to sleep, an’ den I heurd her whoop: ‘Glory,’ she said, ‘my chile is done turned yaller—glory—glory!’ She heard of it bein’ done onct befo’ an’ b’leeved it. Wal, I seed she had her h’art sot on it so bad I ’lowed I’d let it go at dat, ’specially es dey nurver had been a preacher in de family, but all er mine hed tuck to hoss racin’ an’ Dinah was so happy over it she c’u’dn’t sleep.

“I sed dar ’u’d be a time in de mawnin’, but bless you’ soul, honey, it started befo’ day. Lights was seen flashin’ eb’rywhere an’ niggers was runnin roun’ wailin’ an’ weepin’ an’ wonderin’. De black uns had yaller babies an’ yaller ’uns had black ’uns, de upper crust had scrub babies an’ de leetle black cohn fiel’ scrubs wus in de highes’ nigger socshul swim—wid de house gals an’ maids an’ qualerty niggers. Wuss en all, de chilluns jes’ slept rat on an’ didn’t seem to keer whar dey wus an’ who dey b’longed to. I tell you, boss, ef you eber gits bothered ’bout yo’ chap not goin’ to sleep, jes’ gin ’im a good dose ob hoss medercine!

“It ’u’d been all right, an’ jes’ a joke, ef dey hadn’t stirred up ole Voodoo Jake, de witch doctor. He ’lowed de babies was all right but dey had been voodooed an’ de culler changed, an’ he’d hafter rub ’em all wid de ile ob a black cat killed in de full moon on de grabe ob a man dat hab been hung fur murder, an’ dey’d be all right. A nigger jes’ nachu’lly b’leeves all dis, ’specially all dem dat had de yaller babies an’ not one on ’em ’ud gin ’em up.

“An’ dat’s hu’cum I got a yaller offspring in my family ter-day, I am sorry ter say. But arter awhile it got sorter mernoternous, an’ I thort I’d lak ter git my own black baby back, an’ I tole ole Marster whut I done, an’ sum of de niggers raised sech a stir dat de white folks hilt a meetin’ an’ did git sum on ’em back ag’in, but dey’s jes’ about ha’f of ’em now in dat community dat don’t kno’ who dey daddies is. But dat’s nachul, you kno’. But Dinah hed got stuck on de yaller baby, an’ de preacher’s wife on de black one, an’ tho’ I kicked about it I c’u’dn’t do nuffin’. I tole eb’rybody how I dun it fur a joke, but dey all sed I wus sech a liar dey wouldn’t b’leeve me. Ole Marster laff, an’ say he hated to swap off a good black colt for a yaller one, but ef it suited de wimmin folks it suited him, an’ so dar I was.

“Wal, dey soon found I was right, for when de boys growed up a leetle, an’ big ’nuff fur dey pedergree to sho’ up, whut you’ reckin my black un dun ’fore he ten yeahs ole? De preacher tuck ’im ter campmeetin’ an’ he got up a mule race on de outside an’ broke up his daddy’s campmeetin’ one day by ridin’ ole Marster’s gray mule cl’ar over a bunch of mourners an’ spite of punishment an’ pra’ars arter dat, he tuck to ole Marster’s stable an’ dey ain’t nurver got him out of it yit.

“An’ dat yaller dog I got, he warn’t long showin’ de mettle er his pasture an’ de proof er his pedergree,” and the old man sighed and looked troubled.

“How?” I asked.

“Boss,” he said sadly, “befo’ he was ten yeahs ole he stole eb’ry yaller legged chicken in de na’borhood.”