“Mars Marrabo listen’ at ’im ‘temp’ ter tell it; and den he says, kinder col’ and cuttin’-like—­he didn’ ‘pear ter get mad ner nuffin’: 

“‘Youer drunk, Ben.’

“De way his marster spoke sorter sobered Ben, an’ he ’nied it of co’se.

“‘Who?  Me, Mars Marrabo?  Iain’ drunk; no, marster, Iain’ drunk.  I ain’ teched a drap er nuffin’ sence las’ Chris’mas, suh’.

“‘Youer drunk, Ben, an’ don’t you dare ter ’spute my wo’d, er I’ll kill you in yo’ tracks!  I’ll talk ter you Sad’day night, suh, w’en you’ll be sober, an’ w’en you’ll hab Sunday ter ‘fleet over ou’ conve’sation, an’ ‘nuss yo’ woun’s.’

“W’en Mars Marrabo got th’oo talkin’ Ben wuz mo’ sober dan he wuz befo’ he got drunk.  It wuz Wednesday w’en Ben’s marster tol ‘im dis, an’ ‘twix’ den and Friday night Ben done a heap er studyin’.  An’ de mo’ he studied de mo’ he didn’ lak de way Mars Marrabo talked.  He hadn’ much trouble wid Mars Marrabo befo,’ but he knowed his ways, an’ he knowed dat de longer Mars Marrabo waited to do a thing de; wusser he got ’stid er gittin’ better lak mos’ folks.’  An’ Ben fin’lly made up his min’ he wa’n’t gwineter take dat cow-hidin.’  He ’lowed dat ef he wuz little, like some er de dahkies on de plantation, he wouldn’ min’ it so much; but he wuz so big dey’d be mo’ groun’ fer Mars Marrabo ter cover, an’ it would hurt dat much mo.’  So Ben ’cided ter run erway.

“He had a wife an’ two chil’en, an’ dey had a little cabin ter deyse’ves down in de quahters.  His wife Dasdy wuz a good-lookin,’ good-natu’d ‘oman, an’ ‘peared ter set a heap er sto’ by Ben.  De little boy wuz name’ Pete; he wuz ‘bout eight er nine years ole, an’ had already ‘menced ter go out in de fiel’ an’ he’p his mammy pick cotton, fer Mars Marrabo wuz one er dese yer folks w’at wants ter make eve’y aidge cut.  Dis yer little Pete wuz a mighty soople dancer, an’ w’en his daddy would set out in de yahd an’ pick de banjo fer ’im, Pete could teach de ole folks noo steps—­dancin’ jes seemed to come nachul ter ’im.  Dey wuz a little gal too; Ben didn’ pay much ’tention ter de gal, but he wuz monst’us fond er Dasdy an’ de boy.  He wuz sorry ter leab ’em, an’ he didn’ tell ’em nuffin’ ’bout it fer fear dey’d make a fuss.  But on Friday night Ben tuk all de bread an’ meat dey wuz in de cabin an’ made fer de woods.

“W’en Sad’day come an’ Ben didn’ ‘pear, an’ nobody didn’ know nuffin’ ’bout ’im, Mars Marrabo ’lowed of co’se dat Ben had runned erway.  He got up a pahty an’ tuk de dawgs out an’ follered de scen’ down ter de crick an’ los’ it.  Fer Ben had tuk a go’d-full er tar ‘long wid’ ‘im, an’ w’en he got ter de crick he had ‘n’inted his feet wid tar, an’ dat th’owed de houns’ off’n de scent.  Dey sarched de woods an’ follered de roads an’ kep’ watchin’ fer a week, but dey couldn’ fin’ no sign er Ben.  An’ den Mars Marrabo got mo’ stric’, an’ wuked his niggers hahder’n eber, ez ef he wanted ter try ter make up fer his loss.