“Now, dis yer jay-bird de cunjuh man had wuz a monst’us sma’t creeter,—­fac’, de niggers ’lowed he wuz de ole Debbil hisse’f, des settin’ roun’ waitin’ ter kyar dis ole man erway w’en he ‘d retch’ de een’ er his rope.  De cunjuh man sont dis jay-bird fer ter watch Dan en fin’ out whar he kep’ his cha’m.  De jay-bird hung roun’ Dan fer a week er so, en one day he seed Dan go down by de ribber en look at a live-oak tree; en den de jay-bird went back ter his marster, en tol’ ’im he ‘spec’ de nigger kep’ his life-cha’m under dat tree.

“De cunjuh man lafft en lafft, en he put on his bigges’ pot, en fill’ it wid his stronges’ roots, en b’iled it en b’iled it, ‘tel bimeby de win’ blowed en blowed, ’tel it blowed down de live-oak tree.  Den he stirred some more roots in de pot, en it rained en rained ’tel de water run down de ribber bank en wash’ Dan’s life-cha’m inter de ribber, en de bottle went bobbin’ down de current des ez onconsarned ez ef it wa’n’t takin’ po’ Dan’s chances all ‘long wid it.  En den de cunjuh man lafft some mo’, en ‘lowed ter hisse’f dat he wuz gwine ter fix Dan now, sho’ ’nuff; he wa’n’t gwine ter kill ’im des yet, fer he could do sump’n ter ’im w’at would hu’t wusser ‘n killin’.

“So dis cunjuh man ‘mence’ by gwine up ter Dan’s cabin eve’y night, en takin’ Dan out in his sleep en ridin’ ‘im roun’ de roads en fiel’s ober de rough groun’.  In de mawnin’ Dan would be ez ti’ed ez ef he had n’ be’n ter sleep.  Dis kin’ er thing kep’ up fer a week er so, en Dan had des ‘bout made up his min’ fer ter go en see Aun’ Peggy ag’in, w’en who sh’d he come across, gwine ’long de road one day, to’ds sundown, but dis yer cunjuh man.  Dan felt kinder skeered at fus’; but den he ’membered ‘bout his life-cha’m, w’ich he had n’ be’n ter see fer a week er so, en ‘lowed wuz safe en soun’ unner de live-oak tree, en so he hilt up ’is head en walk’ ‘long, des lack he did n’ keer nuffin ‘bout dis man no mo’ d’n any yuther nigger.  Wen he got close ter de cunjuh man, dis cunjuh man sez, sezee:—­

“‘Hoddy, Brer Dan?  I hopes you er well?’

“Wen Dan seed de cunjuh man wuz in a good humor en did n’ ’pear ter bear no malice, Dan ‘lowed mebbe de cunjuh man had n’ foun’ out who killt his son, en so he ‘termine’ fer ter let on lack he did n’ know nuffin, en so sezee:—­

“‘Hoddy, Unk’ Jube?’—­dis ole cunjuh man’s name wuz Jube.  ’I ’s p’utty well, I thank you.  How is you feelin’ dis mawnin’?’

“‘I’s feelin’ ez well ez a’ ole nigger could feel w’at had los’ his only son, en his main ’pen’ence in ’is ole age.

“‘But den my son wuz a bad boy,’ sezee, ‘en I could n’ ‘spec’ nuffin e’se.  I tried ter l’arn him de arrer er his ways en make him go ter chu’ch en pra’r-meetin’; but it wa’n’t no use.  I dunno who killt ’im, en I doan wanter know, fer I ‘d be mos’ sho’ ter fin’ out dat my boy had sta’ted de fuss.  Ef I ’d ‘a’ had a son lack you, Brer Dan, I ’d ‘a’ be’n a proud nigger; oh, yas, I would, sho’s you bawn.  But you ain’ lookin’ ez well ez you oughter, Brer Dan.  Dey’s sump’n de matter wid you, en w’at ‘s mo’, I ‘spec’ you dunno w’at it is.’