Mass' George Part 30

"Ah, you deserve it," I said; "telling a fib like that."

"Was dat a fib, Ma.s.s' George?"

"Yes; you didn't know it all the time."

"No, Ma.s.s' George; not till you tell um. I tought you cut de big 'tick to whop poor n.i.g.g.e.r all black and blue."

"Why, how could I?" and I roared with laughter as I looked at his shiny, ebony skin.

"Dunno, Ma.s.s' George. Hit berry hard, make um bruisum all ober de body, same as you say when you tumble down--you say make um all black and blue."

"There, come along," I said; "let's get the thing home. Phew! Look at the flies already."

"Whish--whoosh--whoosh!" cried Pomp, breaking off a bough and sweeping it round. "Nebber mind, Ma.s.s' George; fly keep on eat lit bit all de way home; not hab so much a carry."

"But how are we to manage? Here, you must find some tough cane to lay the head on."

"I know now," cried Pomp, taking the pole.

"What are you going to do?" I said.

"Put um down um troat. So."

As he spoke, he ran the pole through the open jaws and out at the neck, so that the head was safely swinging in the middle.

"Dah," he said, "now you carry dat end, I carry dis end. Dat end nice an' tin for Ma.s.s' George."

"Why, you cunning young rascal," I said, "you want me to carry the dirty wet end, do you?"

Pomp grinned, and broke off some thick leaves to carefully clean the sullied end, chuckling merrily the while.

"Um was horrid na.s.sy, Ma.s.s' George," he said. "Now all right."

I took up and shouldered the gun, and then seizing one end of the pole, we marched triumphantly back with our grisly trophy, accompanied by quite a cloud of flies which kept up a tremendous humming noise.

I went first, and easily found the spot where the ammunition had been set down by Pomp in his excitement; and after he had thrown the pouch-straps over his shoulder and I had decided not to load again, as we were going straight home, we prepared for a fresh start.

"Ma.s.s' George like to come dis end?" said Pomp.

"No," I said; "I'll go first;" and we went on till Pomp began to grunt and shudder.

"What's the matter?" I said, looking back.

"Poor Pomp get all de 'mell ob de head dis end."

"All right," I said; "it won't hurt you."

"But um do 'tink horrid, Ma.s.s' George."

"We'll carry it the other way, side by side, as soon as we get out of the trees," I said; and we went on a little further, when the boy uttered a shout.

"What's the matter now?" I said.

"De fly, Ma.s.s' George."

"Never mind the flies," I said; "they will not hurt you."

"But dey do, Ma.s.s' George. Dey keep tink Pomp am de head, and sit on um and bite lil bit out ob um arm and neck. Poor n.i.g.g.e.r hardly got a bit ob clothes on."

"And a good job too, Pomp," I cried. "I wish I hadn't. Phew! It is hot!"

After divers changes about, in which I got my fair share of the nuisance, we reached the house, to find my father at home; and he, Morgan, and Hannibal came on to meet our triumphant procession.

"Bravo, George!" said my father; "why, that's quite a patriarch. How did you manage to kill him?"

"Ma.s.s' George shoot um, and Pomp cut um head off," cried the boy, proudly.

"Yes," I said; "Pomp found him asleep, and fetched me. Morgan, I want it on that stump."

"No, no, sir," said Morgan. "I'll get the hammer and a big spike-nail, and drive it through the back of the skin into that big tree at the bottom."

"Capital!" I cried.

"But it will be a nuisance," said my father.

"Oh no, sir. It's full in the hot sun, and the flies will clean it.

Before a week's out it will be dry."

Hannibal fetched the short ladder, and held the head, while Morgan drove in the nail so that the great head with its propped open jaws hung there grinning at the bottom of the garden; the skin soon shrinking away so that the head hung as it were by a skin loop; and before a month was past it was perfectly inoffensive, and had preserved in drying its natural appearance in a wonderful way.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Recollections of sunny days in the cotton-fields, with the men and women cramming the white bursting pods into baskets as they laughed and chattered together, and every now and then burst into some song or chorus, their natural light-heartedness making them, if well treated, forget the bonds from which they suffered. Of those many days in the hot glow, where the men were busy with great chopping-knives cutting down the tall, towering canes ready to be piled high in the mule-carts and borne off to the crushing-mills.

For as time went on the visit of the slave schooner was repeated again and again, and the settlers brought more land under cultivation, and the place grew more busy week by week.

But at home all remained the same, only that by the help of Hannibal our garden increased in beauty and productiveness to a wonderful extent, and Pomp and I revelled in the abundance of the fruit.

I used to look at the boy and his father, and wonder how it was possible for them to have settled down so contentedly. But they had, and it did not seem to me that they had a single thought of the past, so light and easy-going they were.

But I misjudged them, as time proved.

I was merry and lively enough in those days, never happier than when playing Morgan some trick to arouse his wrath; but I was the perfection of quietness compared to Pomp, who was more like a monkey in his antics than a boy; and his father, the morose-looking, gloomy slave that he had been, seemed to have grown as full of life and fun as his son.

I don't think that there was anything I could have asked that pair that they would not have done. If I expressed a wish to have a pair of young squirrels for pets, they were sure to be obtained, just as the racc.o.o.n was, and the woodchuck. If I wished to fish, the baits were ready and the boat cleaned out; while if I told Hannibal I wanted him to come and row for me, his black face shone with pleasure, and he would toil on in the hot sun, hour after hour, with the oars, evidently sharing my delight whenever I caught a fish.