Mingo Part 15

"Please, ma'am, don't be skeer'd er me, Miss Kitty. De Lord years me w'en I say it, dey ain't a ha'r er yo' head dat I'd hurt, dat dey ain't. I ain't bad like dey make out I is, Miss Kitty. Dey tells some mighty big tales, but dey makes um up dey se'f. Manys en manys de time is I seed you w'en you gwine atter sweet-gum en w'en you huntin'

flowers, en I allers say ter myse'f, I did, 'n.o.body better not pester Miss Kitty w'iles Blue Dave anywhars 'roun'.' Miss Kitty, I 'clar' 'fo'

de Lord I ain't no bad n.i.g.g.e.r," Blue Dave continued in a tone of the most emphatic entreaty. "You des ax yo' little br'er. Little Mars.

Felix, he knows I ain't no bad n.i.g.g.e.r."

"Why don't you go home, instead of hiding out in the woods?" said Kitty, striving to speak in a properly indignant tone.

"Bless yo' soul, Miss Kitty, hit ain't no home fer me," said Blue Dave, sadly. "Hit mought be a home fer some n.i.g.g.e.rs, but hit ain't no home fer me. I year somebody comin'. Good-bye, Miss Kitty; don't fergit 'bout Mars. George."

As noiselessly as the wind that faintly stirs the gra.s.s, Blue Dave glided away in the darkness, leaving Kitty Kendrick standing upon the veranda half frightened and wholly puzzled. Her little brother Felix came out to see where she had gone. Felix was eight years old, and had views of his own.

"Sister Kit, what are you doing? Watching for Mr. George to go by?"

"Don't speak to me, you naughty boy!" exclaimed Kitty. "You've disgraced us all. You knew Blue Dave was hiding on top of the house all the while. What would be done with us if people found out we had been harbouring a runaway negro?" Kitty pretended to be terribly shocked.

Felix gave a long whistle, indicative of astonishment.

"You are awful smart," he said. "How did you find that out? Yes, I did know it," he went on, desperately, "and I don't care if I did. If you tell anybody, I'll never run up the road to see if Mr. George is coming as long as I live; I won't never do anything for you."

Kitty's inference was based on what Blue Dave had said; but it filled her with dismay to find it true. She caught the child by the shoulder and gave him a little shake. "Brother Felix, how dare you do such a thing? If mother knew of it, it would break her heart."

"Well, go and tell her and break her heart," said the boy, sullenly.

"It wasn't my fault that Blue Dave was up there. I didn't tote him up, I reckon."

"Oh, how could you do such a thing?" reiterated Kitty, putting her handkerchief to her eyes, as if by this means to expiate her brother's folly.

"Well," said the child, still speaking sullenly, "I heard something moving on top of the house one day when I was in the garret, and I kept on hearing it until I opened the window and went out on the roof. Then, when I got out there, I saw a great big n.i.g.g.e.r man."

"Weren't you frightened?" exclaimed Kitty, catching her breath. "What did you say?"

"I said 'h.e.l.lo!' and then he jumped like he was shot. I asked him his name, and he said he was named Blue Dave, and he begged me so hard I promised not to tell he was up there. And then, after that, he used to come in the garret and tell me no end of tales, and I've got a trunk full of chestnuts that he brought me. He 'a the best n.i.g.g.e.r man I ever saw, less'n it's old Uncle Manuel, and he'll be as good as Uncle Manuel when he gets that old, 'cause Uncle Manuel said so. And I know it ain't my fault; and if you want to tell mother you can come and tell her right now, and then you won't never be my sister any more, never, never!"

"I think you have acted shamefully," said Kitty. "Suppose he had come in the garret, and made his way down-stairs, and murdered us all while we were asleep."

"Well," said Felix, "he could have come any time. I wouldn't be afraid to go out in the woods and stay with Blue Dave this very night, and if I had my way he wouldn't be running from old Bill Brand and his dogs.

When I get a man I'm going to save up money and buy Blue Dave: I thought at first I wanted a pony, but I wouldn't have a pony now."

While they were talking, Kitty heard the rattle of buggy wheels. The sound came nearer and nearer. Whoever was driving was singing, to pa.s.s the time away, and the quick ear of Kitty recognised the voice of George Denham. He went das.h.i.+ng by; but he must have seen the girl standing on the veranda, for he cried out, "Good night, Miss Kitty!"

and then caught up the burden of his song again as he went whirling down the road. Kitty wrung her hands. She went in to her mother with tears in her eyes.

"O mother! George has gone by without stopping. What shall we do?"

Mrs. Kendrick was a very practical woman. Knowing nothing of the freshet in Murder Creek, she was amazed as well as amused at Kitty's tragic att.i.tude.

"Well, it's most too soon for George to begin to take his meals here, I reckon," she said dryly. "You'd better make you a cup of ginger-tea and go to bed."

"But, mother, there's a freshet in Murder Creek. Oh, why didn't he stop?"

Mrs. Kendrick was kneeling on the floor cutting out clothes for the plough-hands,--"slaving for her n.i.g.g.e.rs," as she called it. She paused in her work and looked at Kitty, as if to see whether she had heard her aright.

"Well, upon my word!" she exclaimed, after critically surveying her daughter, "I don't see how girls can be so weak-minded. Many a man as good as George Denham has crossed Murder Creek in a freshet. I don't see but what he's big enough and ugly enough to take care of himself."

"Oh," exclaimed Kitty, going from window to window, and vainly endeavouring to peer out into the darkness, "why didn't he stop?"

"Well," said Mrs. Kendrick, resuming the use of her shears, "if you'll try to worry along and stand it this time, I'll send out and have a fence built across the big road, and get the n.i.g.g.e.rs to light a bonfire; and we'll stop him the next time he comes along. I'll have to do my duty by my own children, I reckon. But don't be alarmed," she continued, perceiving that Kitty's distress was genuine. "You may have to fly around here and get George some supper, after all. I've been waiting on n.i.g.g.e.rs all day; and even if I hadn't, I'm too old and f.a.gged out to be rus.h.i.+ng in amongst the pots and kettles to please George Denham."

George Denham rattled down the road, singing of "Barbara Allen," but thinking of Kitty Kendrick. Suddenly his horse s.h.i.+ed, and then he heard somebody call him.

"Mars. George! Is dat you, Mars. George?"

"Unless you want to make a ghost of me by frightening my horse,"

exclaimed the young man, checking the animal with some difficulty.

"What do you want?"

"Mars. George, is you see Miss Kitty w'en you come by des now?"

"No, I didn't stop. Is anything the matter?"

"No, sir, nothin' in 'tickler ain't de matter, 'ceppin' dat Miss Kitty had sump'n' ter tell you."

"Are you one of the Kendrick negroes?"

"No, sir; I don't b'long dar."

"Who are you?"

"I 'clar' ter goodness, I skeer'd ter tell you, Mars. George; kaze you mought fly up en git mad."

The young man laughed with such genuine heartiness that it did the negro good to hear it.

"Well, I know who you are," he said; "you are Blue Dave, and you've come to tell me that you want me to carry you to jail, where Bill Brand can get his hands on you."

The negro was thunderstruck. "To' de Lord, Mars. George! how you know who I is?"

"Why, I know by your looks. You've got horns and a club foot. That's the way the Old Boy fixes himself."

"Now, Mars. George," said the negro in a grieved tone, "ef you could see me good you wouldn't set dar en say I'm a bad-lookin' n.i.g.g.e.r."

"Are you really Blue Dave?" the young man asked, dropping his bantering tone and speaking seriously.

"Ya.s.ser, Mars. George; I'm dat ve'y n.i.g.g.e.r."

"What do you want with me?"

"I des wanter tell you, Mars. George, dat dey's a freshet come fum 'bove, en Murder Creek is 'way out'n hits banks. You can't cross dar wid no hoss en buggy dis night."

The young man reflected a moment. He was more interested in the att.i.tude of the negro than he was in the extent of the freshet or the danger of an attempt to cross the creek.

"I've a knack of crossing Murder Creek in a freshet," he said. "But why should you want to keep me out of it?"