“I don't talk to no niggers,” replied Hicks, “except to give 'em my orders.”
“Well, did you give them that order?”
“No, I didn't.”
The sudden and hurried entrance of big Steve brought the judge's examination of Mr. Hicks to a standstill.
“Mas'r, you know dat 'ar coachman George—the big black fellow dat took you into town las' evenin'? I jes' been down at Shanty Hill whar Milly, his wife, is carryin' on something scandalous 'cause George ain't never come home!” Steve was laboring under intense excitement, but he ignored the presence of the overseer and addressed himself to Slocum Price.
“Well, what of that?” cried Hicks quickly.
“Thar warn't no George, mind you, Mas'r, but dar was his team in de stable this mo'ning and lookin' mighty nigh done up with hard driving.”
“Yes.” interrupted Hicks uneasily; “put a pair of lines in a nigger's hands and he'll run any team off its legs!”
“An' the kerriage all scratched up from bein' thrashed through the bushes,” added Steve.
“There's a nigger for you!” said Hicks. “She took the rascal out of the field, dressed him like he was a gentleman and pampered him up, and now first chance he gets he runs off!”