At the roll call, the following morning, all answered except the conjurer; he was not there.
The overseer inquired for Dinkie, and was informed that he was still asleep.
“I will bring him out of his bed in a hurry,” said Cook, as he started towards the negro’s cabin. Dinkie appeared at his door, just as the overseer was approaching.
“Follow me to the barn,” said the impatient driver to the negro. “I make it a point always to whip a nigger, the first day that I take charge of a farm, so as to let the hands know who I am. And, now, Mr. Dinkie, they tell me that you have not had your back tanned for many years; and, that being the case, I shall give you a flogging that you will never forget. Follow me to the barn.” Cook started for the barn, but turned and went into his house to get his whip.
At this juncture, Dinkie gave a knowing look to the other slaves, who were standing by, and said, “Ef he lays the weight ob his finger on me, you’ll see de top of dat barn come off.”
The reappearance of the overseer, with the large negro whip in one hand, and a club in the other, with the significant demand of “follow me,” caused a deep feeling in the breast of every negro present.
Dr. Gaines, expecting a difficulty between his new driver and the conjurer, had arisen early, and was standing at his bedroom window looking on.
The news that Dinkie was to be whipped, spread far and near over the place, and had called forth men, women, and children. Even Uncle Ned, the old negro of ninety years, had crawled out of his straw, and was at his cabin door. As the barn doors closed behind the overseer and Dinkie, a death-like silence pervaded the entire group, who, instead of going to their labor, as ordered by the driver, were standing as if paralyzed, gazing intently at the barn, expecting every moment to see the roof lifted.
Not a word was spoken by anyone, except Uncle Ned, who smiled, shook his head, put on a knowing countenance, and said, “My word fer it, de oberseer ain’t agwine to whip Dinkie.”
Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes passed, and the usual sound of “Oh, pray, massa! Oh, pray, massa!” heard on the occasion of a slave being punished, had not yet proceeded from the barn.