"Wellum," he told us, "since ol' Mis' Scarlett's gone, folks does
say de doctor is. Dat's 'cause ob de Hynds' blood in 'im. All dem
Hyndses was natchelly de violentest kind o' pussons, an' Doctor, he
ain't behin' de do'." He rubbed his hands and chuckled. "Lawd, yes!
I know de Doctor, man an' boy, an' he suttinly rips an' ta'hs when
he's riled! You ought ter seen 'im de day ol' Mis' Scarlett let fly
wid 'er shot-gun an' blowed de tails spang off'n two of 'is hens an'
de haid off'n 'is prize rooster! De fowls come thoo' de haidge, an'
ol' Mis' grab 'er gun an' blaze away. De Doctor hear de squallation,
an' come flyin' outer de office an' right ovah de haidge. I 'uz
totin' fiahwood fo' ol' Mis' dat day, an' I drap een de bushes; it
ain't no place fo' sensible niggahs when white folks grab shot-guns.
Doctor see me an' holler: 'Adam! git outer dem bushes, you ol' fool!
You my witness what dis hellion's done to my fowls!'
"Ol' Mis' Scarlett she s'anter ter de winder wid 'er gun sort o'
hangin' loose, an' holler: 'Adam! Come outer dem bushes 'fo' I
pickle yo' hide! You my witness ob dis ruffian trispassin' on my
prop'ty an' cussin' an' seducin' a ol' woman widout 'er consent,'
she says.
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