So then I crept into a lumber-pile to get some sleep;and next time I waked up the sun was away up over my head!I shot out and went for the doctor’s house,but they told me he’d gone away in the night some time or other,and warn’t back yet. Well, thinks I,that looks powerful bad for Tom,and I’ll dig out for the island right off.So away I shoved, and turned the corner,and nearly rammed my head into Uncle Silas’s stomach!He says:
“Why, _Tom!_ Where you been all this time, you rascal?”
“_I_ hain’t been nowheres,” I says,“only just hunting for the runaway nigger—me and Sid.”
“Why, where ever did you go?” he says. “Your aunt’s been mighty uneasy.”
“She needn’t,” I says, “because we was all right.We followed the men and the dogs, but they outrun us,and we lost them; but we thought we heard them on the water,so we got a canoe and took out after them and crossed over,but couldn’t find nothing of them;so we cruised along up-shore till we got kind of tired and beat out;and tied up the canoe and went to sleep,and never waked up till about an hour ago;then we paddled over here to hear the news,and Sid’s at the post-office to see what he can hear,and I’m a-branching out to get something to eat for us,and then we’re going home.”
So then we went to the post-office to get “Sid”;but just as I suspicioned, he warn’t there;so the old man he got a letter out of the office,and we waited a while longer, but Sid didn’t come;so the old man said, come along, let Sid foot it home,or canoe it, when he got done fooling around—but we would ride.I couldn’t get him to let me stay and wait for Sid;and he said there warn’t no use in it,and I must come along,and let Aunt Sally see we was all right.
When we got home Aunt Sally was that glad to see me she laughed and cried both,and hugged me, and give me one of them lickings of hern that don’t amount to shucks, and said she’d serve Sid the same when he come.
And the place was plum full of farmers and farmers’ wives,to dinner; and such another clack a body never heard.Old Mrs. Hotchkiss was the worst;her tongue was a-going all the time. She says:
“Well, Sister Phelps,I’ve ransacked that-air cabin over,an’ I b’lieve the nigger was crazy.I says to Sister Damrell—didn’t I, Sister Damrell?—s’I, he’s crazy, s’I—them’s the very words I said.You all hearn me: he’s crazy, s’I; everything shows it,s’I. Look at that-air grindstone, s’I;want to tell _me_’t any cretur ’t’s in his right mind’s a goin’ to scrabble all them crazy things onto a grindstone, s’I?Here sich ’n’ sich a person busted his heart;’n’ here so ’n’ so pegged along for thirty-seven year,’n’ all that—natcherl son o’ Louis somebody,’n’ sich everlast’n rubbage. He’s plumb crazy, s’I;it’s what I says in the fust place,it’s what I says in the middle,’n’ it’s what I says last ’n’ all the time—the nigger’s crazy—crazy ’s Nebokoodneezer, s’I.”
“An’ look at that-air ladder made out’n rags,Sister Hotchkiss,” says old Mrs. Damrell;“what in the name o’ goodness _could_ he ever want of—”
“The very words I was a-sayin’ no longer ago th’n this minute to Sister Utterback, ’n’ she’ll tell you so herself. Sh-she, look at that-air rag ladder, sh-she; ’n’ s’I, yes, _look_ at it, s’I—what _could_ he a-wanted of it, s’I. Sh-she, Sister Hotchkiss, sh-she—”
“But how in the nation’d they ever _git_ that grindstone _in_ there, _any_way?’n’ who dug that-air _hole?_ ’n’ who—”
“My very _words_, Brer Penrod!I was a-sayin’—pass that-air sasser o’ m’lasses, won’t ye?—I was a-sayin’ to Sister Dunlap, jist this minute,how _did_ they git that grindstone in there, s’I.Without _help_, mind you—’thout _help!Thar’s_ wher ’tis. Don’t tell _me_, s’I;there _wuz_ help, s’I; ’n’ ther’ wuz a _plenty_ help,too, s’I; ther’s ben a _dozen_ a-helpin’ that nigger,’n’ I lay I’d skin every last nigger on this place but _I’d_ find out who done it, s’I; ’n’ moreover, s’I—”
“A _dozen_ says you!—_forty_ couldn’t a done every thing that’s been done.Look at them case-knife saws and things,how tedious they’ve been made;look at that bed-leg sawed off with ’m,a week’s work for six men;look at that nigger made out’n straw on the bed; and look at—”
“You may _well_ say it, Brer Hightower!It’s jist as I was a-sayin’ to Brer Phelps,his own self. S’e, what do _you_ think of it,Sister Hotchkiss, s’e?Think o’ what, Brer Phelps, s’I?Think o’ that bed-leg sawed off that a way, s’e?_think_ of it, s’I?I lay it never sawed _itself_ off,s’I—somebody _sawed_ it, s’I; that’s my opinion,take it or leave it, it mayn’t be no ’count, s’I,but sich as ’t is, it’s my opinion, s’I,’n’ if any body k’n start a better one, s’I,let him _do_ it, s’I, that’s all.I says to Sister Dunlap, s’I—”
“Why, dog my cats, they must a ben a house-full o’ niggers in there every night for four weeks to a done all that work, Sister Phelps. Look at that shirt—every last inch of it kivered over with secret African writ’n done with blood!Must a ben a raft uv ’m at it right along, all the time,amost. Why, I’d give two dollars to have it read to me;’n’ as for the niggers that wrote it,I ’low I’d take ’n’ lash ’m t’ll—”
“People to _help_ him, Brother Marples!Well, I reckon you’d _think_ so if you’d a been in this house for a while back.Why, they’ve stole everything they could lay their hands on—and we a-watching all the time, mind you. They stole that shirt right off o’ the line!and as for that sheet they made the rag ladder out of,ther’ ain’t no telling how many times they _didn’t_ steal that;and flour, and candles, and candlesticks, and spoons,and the old warming-pan,and most a thousand things that I disremember now,and my new calico dress;and me and Silas and my Sid and Tom on the constant watch day _and_ night,as I was a-telling you,and not a one of us could catch hide nor hair nor sight nor sound of them;and here at the last minute, lo and behold you,they slides right in under our noses and fools us,and not only fools _us_ but the Injun Territory robbers too,and actuly gets _away_ with that nigger safe and sound,and that with sixteen men and twenty-two dogs right on their very heels at that very time!I tell you, it just bangs anything I ever _heard_ of.Why, _sperits_ couldn’t a done better and been no smarter.And I reckon they must a _been_ sperits—because,_you_ know our dogs, and ther’ ain’t no better; well,them dogs never even got on the _track_ of ’m once!You explain _that_ to me if you can!—_any_ of you!”
“Well, it does beat—”
“Laws alive, I never—”
“So help me, I wouldn’t a be—”
“_House_-thieves as well as—”
“Goodnessgracioussakes,I’d a ben afeard to _live_ in sich a—”
“’Fraid to _live!_—why, I was that scared I dasn’t hardly go to bed,or get up, or lay down, or _set_ down, Sister Ridgeway.Why, they’d steal the very—why, goodness sakes,you can guess what kind of a fluster _I_ was in by the time midnight come last night. I hope to gracious if I warn’t afraid they’d steal some o’ the family!I was just to that pass I didn’t have no reasoning faculties no more.It looks foolish enough _now_, in the daytime;but I says to myself, there’s my two poor boys asleep,’way up stairs in that lonesome room,and I declare to goodness I was that uneasy ’t I crep’ up there and locked ’em in!I _did_. And anybody would. Because, you know,when you get scared that way, and it keeps running on,and getting worse and worse all the time,and your wits gets to addling,and you get to doing all sorts o’ wild things,and by-and-by you think to yourself,spos’n _I_ was a boy, and was away up there,and the door ain’t locked, and you—” She stopped,looking kind of wondering,and then she turned her head around slow,and when her eye lit on me—I got up and took a walk.