“But arter while de cat kim er-sneakin’ erlong, wid he eyes des er-shinin’ white an’ red an’ green, lack de fox-fire in de swamp. When he sees ’Lish, he quoil he tail keerful lack an’ sot down an’ look at him erwhile, an’ he look an’ look, so knowin’, twel hit mek de goose bumps fa’r riz up on ’Lish’s back; den he git tired er settin’, an’ whisk dat ole long tail er his’n at ’Lish an’ go on inter de spring-house, des er darin’ ’Lish ter foller.
“Den ’Lish ’pear ter git sorter flustered, ’case he done furgit ter work de charm ’gin de debil, but go right inter de spring-house an’ cornder de cat an’ fling de greased rope ober he head. De cat he ’ain’ show no fight now, but des grin an’ sink he ole long white teef plum inter ’Lish’s han’, but dar hain’t no blood drawed, ’case black cat nebber draws blood, but des sink p’is’n deep down on de eends er dey teef. ’Lish think ’bout dat, an’ he feared ter put he han’ in he mouf fur ter suck de p’is’n outen hit; but he know he in fur hit now, an’ so he draw dat noose tighter an’ tighter.
“Now er black cat won’t holler when yo’ hangs him, if hit er rale black cat, ’case hit’s mostly de debil dat is er-w’arin’ uv er black cat’s skin when he wanter ’do erbout,’ ’case he know no hones’-minded pusson is gwine ter dribe erway er cat. So de debil he set by de warm hearth, in de skin er de black cat, an’ purr an’ purr, an’ hear all de secrets er de fambly, an’ things dat passes twixt man an’ man an’ man an’ wife, ’dout anybody tekin’ notice; an’ dat how things go singin’ roun’ an’ dar hain’t nobody tole ’em.
“But dar’s one thing dat yo’ kin put in yo’ pipe an’ smoke; we’s all got our match somers, dar’s sumpen gwine ter ketch up wid de fastes’, an’ dat why de black cat ’ain’ show no fight ’gin er rope.
“Well, ’Lish he tightens de noose an’ fling de eend er de rope ober de swingin’ fork, an’ tie hit dar, an’ sot an’ wait. De cat he grin an’ grin at ’Lish; he kin see de teef by de light er de eyes dat des shoot sparks, an’ hit ’pear lack dem eyes des charm ’Lish lack er snake, fur his’n plum sot on de cat’s, an’ he cain’t tek ’em off.
“Den sumpen happin dat mek ’Lish’s blood fa’r rin cole an’ he hair ter stan’ right up an’ straighten out, es kinky es hit were; fur ’Lish he hear er voice ’hine de cat somers, an’ he know hit were de cat, dough de ole cat’s tongue was des er hangin’ out. Den hit ’pear lack dar were two cats, den free cats, den de air hit ’pear ter be plum full er cats, an’ dey all opin dey moufs an’ says de same thing all at de same time; ’Lish say hit were des lack thunder. He hain’t nebber, nebber tole what de cats gib out—he allus shiver an’ ’low he cain’t, so we all hain’t ebber know. But all dis time de hung cat was des er-grinnin’ at ’Lish.
“Dat cat sho’ dead dis time—dar wa’n’t no ’sputin’ ’bout dat, dough dat wa’n’t no sign dat de debil done gone back ter his own. But arter de air git cl’ar fum de odder cats, ’Lish taken de hung cat down an’ hide de rope in de bayou, ’case he don’ want de niggers ter know he hang er black cat, an’ es he lock de door, he know de cream done safe now, an’ dar hain’t nuffin gwine ter pester hit no mo’.
“Ole Miss mek mighty much er ’Lish, an’ Ole Marse brags on him, but it don’ ’pear ter do ’Lish much good; fur we cain’t hide nuffin fum de truf, an’ what er nigger do wrong in de dark, gwine ter be onkivered in de daylight, an’ hit hain’t gwin ter be er cloudy day, sho’s yo’ born. Er sin is one er de bes’ keepin’ things on dis here yeth; hit hain’t er gwine ter spile in de keepin’, an’ when dey onkiver hit, hit ’ll be des es safe an’ soun’ de day arter de Jedgment es you kin fin’ hit ter-day; an’ dat nigger he know he ’mittin’ er sin ’gin de ’ligion er he Mammy when he kill dat cat.
“But de bad luck dat he hunted fur kim on him putty fas’ arter dat; fur de day lackin’ one arter he hang de cat, er muel he were ridin’ ter de fiel’—er ole, slow, jog-trottin’, sleepy muel—git de debil in her an’ frow him an’ break he leg.
“Den he taken wid de browncreeturs in he thote ’fore he git fru dat, an’ hab er powerful hard time. Ole Miss think he gwinter die, but de debil hain’t gwinter let him die, he gwinter mek him mo’ painful yit. Den he taken wid de arysipulous in de lame leg, an’ some call hit scrofulow an’ some call hit des arysipulous; but, anyhow, he seed sights wid hit, dough Ole Miss doctors on him so hard dat he git shet uv hit.