An "ancient fish-like smell" filled
the air; Jeff sank on the ground and stared at sardines and rancid
oil dropping instead of golden dollars from his treasure-box. They
scarcely touched the ground before the dog snapped them all up.
The bewildered negro knew not what to think. Had fish been the
original contents of the box, or had the soldier's spook
transformed the gold into this horrid mess? One thing, however,
was clear--he had lost, not only Suky, but prestige. The yellow
girl would scorn him, and tell of his preposterous promises. Mandy
had been offended beyond hope, and he would become the laughing-
stock and byword of all the colored boys for miles around.
"Dar's nuffin lef fer me but ter put out fer freedom," he
soliloquized; "ki! I'se a-gwine ter git eben wid dat yallar gal
yet. I'll cut stick ter-morrer night and she'll tink I 'sconded
alone, totin' de box wid me, and dat she was too sharp in dat
'liance business."
So it turned out; Jeff and his fiddle vanished, leaving nothing to
sustain Suky under the gibes of her associates except the ring,
which she eventually learned was as brazen as her own ambition.
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