Bishop and the Boogerman

by Joel Chandler Harris

  PART II

  Far over the hills, the wayward, White feet of the children run, Now gleaming in the shadows, Now glistening in the sun-- And always travelling dayward As they flit by one by one.

  --_Vanderlyn's Songs of the Past._

  It was curious how much interest Mr. Sanders began to take in the homelife that the mere presence of Adelaide brought to old Jonas Whipple'shouse. He would walk in without knocking, sometimes just about tea-time,and the child would invariably ask him to stay. Then after tea, he wouldchallenge old Jonas for a game of checkers, and Adelaide thought it wasgreat fun to watch them, they were so eager to defeat each other. Mr.Sanders had long been the champion checker-player in that part of thecountry, and he was very much astonished to find that old Jonas washimself an expert. Sometimes Adelaide would watch the game, and the twomen invariably appealed to her to settle any question or doubt thatarose, such as which of the two made the last move, or whether old Jonashad slipped a man from the board.

  Most frequently, however, Adelaide was busy with her own affairs, andwhen this was the case, the two men sat quietly together, sometimestalking and sometimes listening.

  "The Bishop is here," Adelaide would say to Cally-Lou. Then it seemedthat Cally-Lou would make some reply that could only be heard throughthe ears of the imagination, to which Adelaide would respond mostearnestly: "Why of course he isn't asleep, 'cause I saw him wink botheyes just now"--and the conversation would go on, sometimesgood-humouredly, and sometimes charged with pretended indignation. Ifthere had been any telephones, Mr. Sanders would inevitably have said:"You can't make me believe thar ain't some un at the other eend of theline."

  I would say it was all like a play on the stage, only it wasn't as smallas that. A play on the stage, as you well know, has its times andplaces. It must come to an end within a reasonable time. The curtaincomes down, the audience files out, laughing and chatting, or wiping itseyes--as the case may be--the actors run to their cheerless rooms tostrip off their tinsel finery, then the lights are put out, andeverything is left to the chill of emptiness and gloom. But this was notthe way with the play at old Jonas's home. It began early in themorning--for Adelaide was a very early riser--and lasted until bed-time;and, sometimes, longer, as Lucindy could have told you. Old Jonas had away of covering his bald head with a flannel night-cap, and tucking thebed-covering about his face and ears, so that light and sound, no matterwhere they came from, would have as much as they could do to reach hiseyes and ears; and, while he lay very still, as though he were soundasleep, he was sometimes awake for a very long time, thinking oldthoughts and new ones, remembering people he had pinched in moneymatters, and thinking of those he intended to pinch.

  After Adelaide came to live with him he had few thoughts of this kind,and less desire to sleep. Frequently he lay awake for hours at a time,wondering if the child was comfortable. Adelaide slept in a poster bed,one of the old-fashioned kind, and many a night, when everything wasstill and dark as the gloomy plague that fell over Egypt, old Jonaswould slip from under his carefully tucked cover, steal into the roomwhere the child slept, and listen by her bedside to convince himselfthat she was really breathing, so softly and shyly did she draw herbreath. And sometimes he would put out his hand and feel--oh, ever sogently!--if she had kicked off the covering.

  "Old Jonas would listen by her bedside to convincehimself that she was really breathing"]

  Now, it frequently happened that Lucindy, the cook, had the same spellsof uneasiness, and it chanced one night that they were both at thechild's bed at the same time. Old Jonas was feeling, and Lucindy wasfeeling, and their hands met; the cold hand of old Jonas touchedLucindy's hand. This was enough! Lucindy said not a word--indeed, wordswere beyond her--she said afterward that she came within one of utteringa scream and dropping to the floor. But the fright that had weakenedher, had also given her strength to escape. She stole back to her placeon tip-toe, declaring in her mind that she would never again enter thatroom at night unless she had torch-bearers to escort her.

  It was contrary to all her knowledge and experience that old Jonasshould concern himself about the child at his time of life, and with hiswhimsical habits and methods. In trying to account for the incident, hermind never wandered in the direction of old Jonas at all. To imaginethat he was at the bedside of the child, investigating her comfort, wasfar less plausible than any other explanation she could offer. And thenand there, the legend of Cally-Lou became charged with reality, so faras Lucindy was concerned; and it had a larger growth in one night, fromthe impetus that Lucindy gave it, than an ordinary legend could hope tohave in a century.

  Lucindy lost no time in mentioning the matter to Adelaide the next day."La, honey! I had de idee dat you wuz des a-playin' when I hear youtalkin' to Cally-Lou; I got de idee dat she wuz des one er deWhittle-Come-Whattles dat lives in folks' min', an' nowhar else. Dat 'uzkaze I ain't never seed 'er; my eyeballs ain't got de right slant, Ireckon. But las' night, I tuck a notion dat you had done kick de kivveroff, an' in I went, gropin' an' creepin' 'roun' in de dark--not dish yercommon dark what you have out'n doors, but de kin' dat your Nunky-Punkykeeps in de house at night; an' de Lord knows ef I had ez much money ezwhat dey say he's got, I'd have me ten candles an' a lantern lit ineve'y blessed room. Well, I went in dar, des like I tell you, an' I putout my han'--des so--an' I teched somebody else's han', an' 'twantyour'n, honey, kaze 'twuz ez col' ez a frog in de branch. I tell younow, I lit out fum dar--hosses couldn't 'a' helt me--an' I come in deback room dar whar I b'long'ded at, crope back in bed, an' shuck an'shiver'd plum' tell sleep come down de chimberly an' sot on my eyeleds.

  "Nobody nee'n'ter tell me dey aint no Cally-Lou, kaze I done gone an'felt un her. Folks say dat feelin's lots better'n seein'. What you seemayn't be dar, kaze yer eyeballs may be wrong, but what you feels un,it's blidze ter be dar. Well, I done put my han' on Cally-Lou! Yes,honey, right on 'er!" Lucindy told her experience to many, including oldJonas, who glared at her with his ferret-like eyes, and moved his jawsas if he were chewing a very toothsome tidbit; and the oftener she toldit, the larger it grew and the more completely she believed inCally-Lou.

  Many shook their heads, while others openly avowed their disbelief. Onthe other hand a large number of those who came in contact with Lucindyand heard her solemn account of the affair, were greatly impressed.Adelaide showed not the slightest surprise when Lucindy recounted herastonishing adventure. She seemed to be glad that the cook had nowdiscovered for herself about Cally-Lou, but she seemed very muchdistressed, and also irritated, that the Chill-Child-No-Child (as shesometimes called her) should be so thoughtless as to wander about in thedarkness with nothing on her feet and little on her body. With bothhands Adelaide pushed back her wonderful hair that was almost hiding herblue eyes.

  "I don't know how often I have told Cally-Lou not to go gadding aboutthe house at night, catching cold and making Nunky-Punky pay a dollarapiece for doctor's bills. No wonder she slept so late this morning!"

  Adelaide not only talked like she was picking the words out of a bigbook, as Lucindy declared, but there were times, as now, when all thetroubles and responsibilities of maternity looked out upon the worldthrough her eyes. Old-fashioned, and apparently as much in earnest as awoman grown, it was no wonder that Lucindy gazed at her like oneentranced!

  Adelaide made no further remark, but turned and went from the kitcheninto the house. All the doors were open, the weather being warm andpleasant, and Lucindy presently heard her asking Cally-Lou why shecontinued to disobey the only friend she had in the world. Cally-Loumust have made some excuse, or explanation, though Lucindy couldn't heara word thereof, for Adelaide, speaking in a louder tone, gave theChill-Child-No-Child a sound rebuke.

  "I don't care if you do feel that way about it," said she; "Nunky-Punkycan look after me, if he feels like it, and so can Aunt Lucindy, but I'mthe one to look after you. Be ashamed of yourself! a great big girl likeyou going around in the dark, barefooted and bareheaded. Seat your
selfin that chair, and don't move out of it till I tell you, or you'll besorry."

  Lucindy, listening with all her ears, lifted her arms in a gesture ofadmiration and astonishment, exclaiming to herself, "I des wish you'dlisten! Dat sho do beat my time!"

  Adelaide went off to play, and it might be supposed that she hadforgotten Cally-Lou; but a little before the hour was up, she went intothe house again, called Cally-Lou, and, after a little, came running outagain, laughing as gayly as if she had heard one of Mr. Sanders's jokes.

  "What de matter, honey? Whar Cally-Lou?" Lucindy inquired.

  "Why, she went fast asleep in the chair," cried Adelaide, laughing asthough it were the funniest thing imaginable, "and no wonder she fellasleep after wandering about the house, pretending she wanted to makesure that I was snivelling under that heavy cover. How can anybody getcold such weather as this?"

  Lucindy shook her head. "De han' dat totch mine was col', honey--stonecol'."

  "Oh, Cally-Lou's hand! Well, she can sit by the fire and still be cold,"responded Adelaide. "Cally-Lou is mighty funny," she went on, growingconfidential; "she says she is lonesome; she wants to play with grownerfolks than me."

  "Well, honey, I dunner whar she'll fin' um. Dar's Mr. Sanders; sholy heain't too young fer 'er!"

  As though the mention of his name had summoned Mr. Sanders from the dimand vague region where Cally-Lou had her place of residence, those inthe kitchen now heard his voice in the house. He had entered, as usual,without taking the trouble to knock, and he came down the long hall,talking and saluting imaginary persons, hoping in that way to attractthe attention of Adelaide. Nor was he unsuccessful.

  "Well, I declare!" he exclaimed. "Here's Miss Sue Frierson!--an'well-named too, bekaze ever'body knows that she'd fry a sun ef she hadone. Howdy, Miss Sue! Miss Susan-Sue! Ef you are well, why I am too! Soit's up an' hop to-day. Dr. Honeyman says she won't be well tell she'sbetter. She had company last night, an' she tried for to nod whiles shewas standin' up. It'd 'a' been all right ef her feet had n't 'a' gone tosleep. Thereupon, an' likewise whatsoever--as the Peskerwhalian Bishopsays--she fell off'n her perch, an' had to be put to bed back'ards.What? You don't know the Peskerwhalian Bishop? Well, his hardware nameis William H. Sanders, of the county aforesaid, Ashbank Deestrick, G. M.

  "Cally-Lou? Well, I hain't seed the child to-day, but she's up an'about; you'll hear her whistlin' fer company presently. Can't stay?Well, good bye, Miss Susan-Sue; mighty glad I met you when I did. Solong, or longer!"

  Bowing Miss Frierson out, though she was invisible to all eyes, Mr.Sanders came back toward the kitchen talking to himself. "Well, well! Ihadn't seed my Susan-Sue in thirteen year, an' she's jest the same asshe was when she engaged herself to me--eyes like they had been jestwashed, an' the eend of her nose lookin' like a ripe plum! But sech islife whar we live at. Howdy, Adelaide? Howdy, Lucindy? I hope both ofyou have taken your stand among my well-wishers."

  "La, Mr. Sanders, how you does run on! I b'lieve you er lots wuss'n youused to be!"

  "Well, Lucindy, it's mighty hard for to make a young hoss stand in oneplace. He's uther got to go back'ards or forrerds, or jump sideways.I've jest begun to live good. I feel a heap better sence I was born inthe country whar Miss Adelaide spends her time an' pleasure."

  "Now, Bishop, tell me, please, if you were really talking toMiss----Miss----"

  "Frierson--Miss Susan-Sue Frierson." Mr. Sanders supplied the name toAdelaide. He seemed to be filled with astonishment. "Did you hear metalking?" he asked in a confidential whisper. "Why, I--I didn't know youcould hear me! Now, don't go and tell ever'body. She lives in ourcountry, an' she come for to see Cally-Lou."

  "Well, I'm sorry Cally-Lou didn't see her. I had to punish her to-day,and she's not feeling so well."

  "Well, I reckon not!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders; "'specially ef you used acowhide, or a barrel-stave. What have you got to do to-day, and whar areyou gwine? I had a holiday comin' to me, an' so I thought I'd come downhere an' take you to the Whish-Whish Woods an' hunt for the Boogerman."

  At once Adelaide was in a quiver of excitement. "Shall we camp out? Mustwe take guns? How long shall we stay?"

  "Guns! why, tooby shore," replied Mr. Sanders, with an expression offerociousness new to his countenance; "as many as we can tote wi'outsp'ilin' our complexions; an' we'll stay ontel we git him or his hide.Lucindy'd better fix up a lunch for two--a couple of biscuits an' acouple of buttermilks. Thar's no tellin' when we'll git back."

  Now, old Jonas Whipple had the largest and the finest garden in town. Itwas such a fine garden, indeed, that the neighbours had a way of lookingat it over the fence, and wondering how Providence could be so kind to aman so close and stingy, and so mean in money-matters. And as yourneighbours can wonder about one thing as well as another, old Jonas'swondered where all the vegetables went to. It was out of the questionthat old Jonas should use them all himself; and yet, as regularly as thegarden was planted every year, as certainly as the vegetables alwaysgrew successfully, let the season be wet or dry, just as regularly andjust as certainly, the various crops disappeared as fast as they becameeatable--and that, too, when nearly everybody in the community hadgardens of their own. It was a very mild mystery, but in a village, suchas Shady Dale was, even a mild mystery becomes highly important until itis solved, and then it is forgotten. Only Mr. Sanders had solved it thusfar, and this was the main reason why he "neighboured" with old Jonas.He had discovered that the vegetables went to the maintenance of a smallcolony of "tackies" that had settled near Shady Dale--"dirt-eaters" theywere called. They were so poor and improvident that the men went in ragsand the women in tatters; and only old Jonas's fine garden was free tothem. In the early morning twilight they would slip in with their bagsand their baskets, and were gone before anybody but themselves hadshaken off the shackles of sleep.

  * * * * *

  Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-eight seemed to be very pale when Adelaideand I found it under the honeysuckle vine, but in old Jonas's garden itwas particularly brilliant in its colours of green. Green is theadmiration of summer, and it has more beautiful shades than the rainbow.Observe the marked difference between the cabbage and the corn, betweenthe squash and watermelon vines, between the asparagus and the cucumber,between the red pepper plants and the tomato vines! These variations areworth more than a day's study by any artist who is ambitious of traininghis eyes to colour.

  In old Jonas's garden in the summer we are speaking of, there were threesquares of corn, the finest that had ever been seen on upland. And itwas very funny, too: for old Jonas had planted early, and the frost hadcome down and nipped the corn when it was about three inches high. Thenegro gardener was in despair; in all his experience, and he wasgray-headed, he had never seen anything like this late frost, and he wasanxious for the corn to be ploughed up, so that it could be replanted.Old Jonas wouldn't hear to the proposition, and the gardener went abouthis business, wondering how a man could be so stingy about seed corn,when he had seven or eight bushels stored away in the dry cellar.

  But, as time went on, the gardener discovered that old Jonas had wisdomon his side of the fence; the corn not only came up again after beingcut down, but it grew twice as fast, and almost twice as high as anybodyelse's corn. In short, there had never before been seen, in thatneighbourhood, a roasting-ear patch quite as vigorous. Some of thecornstalks were nearly fourteen feet high, and some of them had as manyas four ear-sprouts showing. The patch was so rank and healthy that itattracted the attention of Mr. Sanders. He climbed the fence, and wentinto old Jonas's garden to give it a close examination. A good breezewas blowing at the time, and the sword-like leaves of the corn werestirred by it, so that they waved up and down and from side to side,whispering to one another, "Whish-whish!" That was enough for Mr.Sanders. He thought instantly of Adelaide, and he named the roasting-earpatch the Whish-Whish Woods, and that was where he proposed to gohunting for the Boogerman, the awful, greedy creature that ateNunky-Punky's vegetables raw!r />
  Lucindy didn't need any training in the quick-lunch line, and in lessthan no time, if we may deal familiarly with the ticking of the clock,she had cut two biscuits open and inserted in each a juicy slice of ham;and while she was doing this, Adelaide ran to her armoury, where shekept her weapons, offensive and defensive, and came running back withtwo guns. They were cornstalk guns, but not the less dangerous on thataccount. They were very long and, as Mr. Sanders said, they had aboutthem an appearance of violence calculated to make the Boogerman fall onhis knees and surrender the moment he was discovered. An ordinary gunmight miss fire--such things have been known before now--but a cornstalkgun, never! All you have to do when you have a cornstalk gun, is topoint it at the destined victim, shut your eyes and say _Bang!_ in aloud voice, and the thing is done. And if people or things--whatever andwhoever you shoot at--should be mean enough to remain unhurt, why, then,that is their fault, and much good may their meanness do them!

  Well, Adelaide and Mr. Sanders took their lunch and were about to starton their dangerous expedition, when they bethought themselves ofsomething that Lucindy had forgotten.

  "Why, Lucindy!" cried Adelaide, "what is the matter with you?"

  "Nothin' 't all dat I knows on, honey. I'm de same ol' sev'n an' sixwhat I allers been."

  Then Mr. Sanders came to Adelaide's support. "Well, your mind must bewanderin'," he said, "bekaze we ast you as plain as tongue kin speak forto put us up a couple of buttermilks."

  Lucindy threw her hand above her head with a gesture of despair. "I knowit, I know it! but I ain't got but one buttermilk. Dar's a jar full, butdat don't make but one; an' what I gwine do when dat's de case?"

  "Why, ef you've got a jar full, thar must be mighty nigh a dozenbuttermilks in it." And so, after much argument and explanation, Lucindyfound a bottle and a funnel and poured two glassfuls in it, one afterthe other. Mr. Sanders, very solemn, counted as she filled the glass."That makes one," he said, as she emptied the first glass, "an'," whenshe poured in the rest--"that makes two, don't it?"

  "Yasser! La, yasser! you-all got me so mixified dat I dunner know whicheend I'm a standin' on. Two! yasser, dey sho is two in dar!"

  Having everything needful in hand, the hunters took their way toward thelarge garden. Don't think this garden bore any resemblance to theordinary gardens that are to be found in cities and towns. No! it was solarge that, standing at one end you had to shade your eyes--especiallywhen the sun was shining--to be able to see the boundary fence at theother end. It held not only a supply of vegetables sufficient for fiftyfamilies, but it contained an abundance of old-fashioned flowers, thekind you see pictured in the magazines--roses, spice pinks, primroses,mint, with its little blue flowers, lavender--oh, and ever so much ofeverything! And it was all well kept, too, stingy as old Jonas was. Inthis wide garden the Whish-Whish Forest grew and flourished, and towardthis the two hunters bent their steps.

  At first they pretended they were not hunting. Nothing could have beenmore innocent than the careless way in which they made their way towardthe home of the Boogerman. Hiding their cornstalk guns behind them aswell as they could, they sauntered along examining the flowers, and noone would have supposed that they were after ridding the country of thecruel monster that had terrorised the children for miles around. In notless than seven or seventeen counties was his name spoken in whisperswhen the sun had gone to bed and tucked his cloud-quilts around him. Ifa child cried at night, or if a wide-awake little one uttered awhimpering protest when bed-time came, the nurses--not one nurse, butall the nurses--would raise their hands warningly, and whisper in afrightened tone, "Sh-sh! the Boogerman is standing right there by thewindow; if you make a noise, he'll know right where you are--and thenwhat will happen?"

  Presently Adelaide and Mr. Sanders (who was still the Bishop, be itremembered) came close in their saunterings to the edge of theWhish-Whish Woods, and then they began to creep forward, making aslittle noise as possible.

  "They began to creep forward, making as little noise aspossible"]

  "Bishop," said Adelaide, in a whisper, "you slip through the Woods oneway, and I'll slip through the other way. You can be a bishop and aInjun, too, can't you?"

  "Nothin' easier," replied the Bishop, trying to whisper in return; "I'lljest take off my coat an' turn it wrongsud-out'rds, an' thar you are!"

  Adelaide's ecstasy shone in her face, and with good reason, for themiddle lining of the Bishop's coat was fiery red. This was too good tobe true, and Adelaide wished in her heart that she had worn her hat withthe big red feather--oh, you know: the one she wore to Sunday School,where all the other little girls were simply green with envy; of courseyou couldn't forget that hat and feather!

  In spite of the fiery red lining of his coat, the Bishop had an ideathat he didn't look fierce enough, so he took off his felt hat, knockedin the crown, and put it on upside down. His aspect was simplytremendous. No hobgoblin could have a fiercer appearance than the Bishophad, and if Adelaide didn't shriek with pure delight it was because sheput her gun across her mouth and bit it. She bit so hard that the printof her small teeth showed on the gun. Well, of course, after the Bishophad transformed himself into such a ferocious-looking monster, he andAdelaide were obliged to have another consultation, and it was whilethis was going on that Adelaide came near spoiling the whole thing.

  "Oh, Bishop!" she cried, with a great gasp, "how do you laugh whenyou're obliged to, and when----" she gave another gasp, sank to theground, and lay there, shaking all over.

  "You put me in mind, honey, of the lady in the book that leaned ag'inthe old ellum tree and shuck wi' sobs, ever' one on 'em more'n a footan' a half long, wi' stickers on 'em like a wild briar. It's a sad thingfor to say, but I'm oblidze to say it. The time has come when we've gotto part. Ef we go on this way, the Boogerman will come along an' put usboth in his wallet, an' then what'll we do? Things can't go on thisa-way. It may be for years an' it may be forever, as Miss Ann Tatum sayswhen she begins for to squall at her peanner, but the time to part hascome. You creep up yander by the fence, so you can see the Boogerman efhe tries for to git away, an' I'll roost aroun' in the bushes. Ef I jumphim I'll holla, an' ef he come your way, jest shet your eyes an' givehim both barrels in the neighbourhood of eyeballs an' appetite. Youcan't kill the Boogerman unless you hit him in his green eye--the otheris a dark mud colour."

  Well, they separated, the Bishop beating in the bushes and underbrush,as he called the crab-grass and weeds that had begun to make theirappearance in the corn-patch, and Adelaide creeping to her post ofobservation as though she were stalking some wild and wary animal. Shecould hear the Bishop rustling about in the thick corn, but couldn'tcatch a glimpse of him. Once she heard him sneeze as only a middle-agedman can sneeze, and she frowned as a general frowns when his orders havebeen disobeyed. Presently she heard some one coming along the sidestreet, which, being away from the main thoroughfares, was littlefrequented. Occasionally a pedestrian, or a farmer going home, or houseservants, who lived near-by, passed along its narrow length.

  The moment she heard footsteps, Adelaide shrank back in the thick corn,and held her cornstalk gun in readiness. Her hair might have beenmistaken for a tangle of corn-silks newly sunburned as it fell over herface. The steps drew nearer, and, in a moment, a negro came into view.He was a stranger to Adelaide, and that fact only made it more certainthat he was the Boogerman himself, who had jumped the garden fence inorder to elude Mr. Sanders, and was now sauntering along appearing asinnocent as innocence itself. When the Boogerman came oppositeAdelaide's hiding-place, she jumped up suddenly, aimed her gun and cried_Bang!_ in a loud voice.

  Now, as it happened, the passing negro was one who could meet and beatAdelaide on her own ground. The cornstalk gun, with its imperative_Bang!_ carried him back to old times, though he was not old--back tothe times when he played make-believe with his young mistress and therest of the children. Therefore, simultaneously with Adelaide's _Bang!_he stopped in his tracks, his face working convulsively, his arms flyingwildl
y about, and his legs giving way under him. He sank slowly to theground, and then began to flop about just as a chicken does when itshead is wrung off.

  The Bishop heard a wild, exultant shout from Adelaide: "Run, Bishop,run! I've got him! I've killed the Boogerman! Run, Bishop, run!" Mr.Sanders ran as fast as he could; and when he saw the negro lying on theground, with no movement save an occasional quiver of the limbs and asympathetic twitching of the fingers, his amazement knew no bounds.

  "Why, honey!" he cried, "what in the world have you done to him?"

  "I didn't do a thing, Bishop, but shoot him with my cornstalk gun; Ididn't know it had such a heavy load in it. Anyhow, he had no businessto be the Boogerman. Do you think he's truly--ann--dead, Bishop?"

  "As dead," Mr. Sanders declared solemnly, "as Hector. I dunno how deadHector was, but this feller is jest as dead as him--that is ef he ain'tgot a conniption fit; I've heern tell of sech things."

  They climbed the garden fence, and went to where the Boogerman was lyingstretched out. "When a man's dead," said Mr. Sanders, "he'll always tellyou so ef you ax him."

  "Boogerman! oh, Boogerman!" cried Adelaide, going a little closer.

  "Ma'am!" replied the dead one feebly.

  "When the Boogerman is dead," said Adelaide, "and anybody asks him if itis so, he lifts his left foot and rolls his eyeballs. Are you dead?"

  In confirmation of that fact, the foot was lifted, and the eyeballsbegan to roll. Adelaide was almost beside herself with delight. Neverhad she hoped to have such an experience as this. "Where shall he beburied, Bishop?"

  "Close to the ash-hopper, right behind the kitchen," promptly respondedMr. Sanders.

  "Get up, Boogerman!" commanded Adelaide. "You have to go to your ownfumerl, you know, and you might as well go respectably." Adelaide alwaysuttered a deliciously musical gurgle when she used a big word.

  "Yes," said Mr. Sanders; "as fur as my readin' goes, thar ain't nothin'in the fourteenth an' fifteenth amendments ag'in it."

  Now, old Jonas's side-gate opened on this street, and on this gateLucindy chanced to be leaning, when the Boogerman, fatally wounded byAdelaide's cornstalk gun, sank upon the ground and began to jump aroundlike a chicken with its head off. She was tremendously frightened atfirst; in fact she was almost paralysed. So she stayed where she was,explaining afterward that she didn't want to be mixed up "wid any erdeze quare doin's what done got so common sence de big rucus." Then shesaw Adelaide and Mr. Sanders climb the garden fence and stand over thefallen negro, and curiosity overcame her fright. By the time the negrowas on his feet, Lucindy had arrived. She looked at him hard, jumped athim, threw her arms around his neck, and squeezed him so tight that thetwo of them kept turning around as if they were trying to keep time to asmothered waltz; and all the while Lucindy was moaning and groaning andthanking the Lord that her son whom she had not seen in four long years,had come, as it were, right straight to her bosom.

  She hugged him to the point of smifflication, as Mr. Sanders declared,and she held him at arm's length, the better to see whether he hadchanged, and in what particular. Then she turned to Mr. Sanders:

  "Mr. Sanders, sholy you knows dis chil'--sholy you ain't done gone an'disremembered Randall. Des like you seed him doin' des now, dat de wayhe been doin' all his born days--constantly a-playin', constantlya-makin' out dat what ain't so is so, an' lots mo' so. Many an' many'sde time sence Miss Adelaide been here has I had de idee dat ef Randallwuz here, he'd be mo' dan a match fer Cally-Lou an' all de rest un umdat slips out'n dreams an' stays wid us. Yasser, I sho has. But now he'scome, I des feels in my bones dat he gwine ter git in deep trouble 'boutdem crimes what he run away fer."

  "Randall is the chap that knocked Judge Bowden's overseer crossways an'crooked, ain't he?" inquired Mr. Sanders.

  "Yasser, he done dat thing," replied Lucindy: "an how come he ter doit--him dat wuz afear'd er his own shadder--I'll never tell you. Let'lone dat, he ain't gwin ter tell you; kaze I done ax'd him myse'f. Ispeck he'll haf ter run away ag'in."

  "You know me, don't you, Randall?" inquired Mr. Sanders.

  "La! yasser, Mr. Sanders, I've been knowin' you sence I could walkgood."

  "That's what I thought," said Mr. Sanders. "Well, my advice to you is tostay an' face the music. Ef the man you hit makes a move we'll have himright whar we've been a-tryin' fer to git him for two long years!"

  They went toward the house, and entered the side-gate, attracting, asthey did so, the attention of two or three of the neighbours. The Bishophad been so absorbed in what had occurred that he forgot to turn hiscoat, or to right his hat.

  "Did you see old Billy Sanders?" one woman asked another over the backfence.

  "I did," replied the other, "and I like to have dropped--I believe he isgoing crazy."

  "Going!" exclaimed the first woman, "he's gone! Done gone!"