lin wan' to shoot Marse Chan, anyway!

"We come on home to breakfast, I totin' de box wid de pistils befo' me
on the roan. Would you b'lieve me, seh, Marse Chan he nuvver said a
wud 'bout it to ole marster or nobody. Ole missis didn' fin' out 'bout
it for mo'n a month, an' den, Lawd! how she did cry and kiss Marse
Chan; an' ole marster, aldo' he never say much, he wuz jes' ez please'
ez ole missis. He call' me in de room an' made me tole 'im all 'bout
it, an' when I got th'oo he gi' me five dollars an' a pyar of
breeches.

"But ole Cun'l Chahmb'lin he nuvver did furgive Marse Chan, and Miss
Anne she got mad too. Wimmens is mons'us onreasonable nohow. Dey's
jes' like a catfish: you cann' tek' hole on 'em like udder folks, an'
when you gits 'em yo' can n' always hole 'em.

"What meks me think so? Heaps o' things--dis: Marse Chan he done gi'
Miss Anne her pa jes' ez good ez I gi' Marse Chan's dawg sweet
'taters, an' she git mad wid 'im ez if he hed kill 'im 'stid o'
sen'in' 'im back to her dat mawnin' whole an' soun'. B'lieve me! she
wouldn' even speak to 'im arfter dat!

"Don' I 'member dat mawnin'!

"We wuz gwine fox-huntin', 'bout six weeks or sich a matter arfter de
duil, an' we met Miss Anne ridin' 'long wid anudder lady an' two
gent'mens whar wuz stayin' at her house. Dyar wuz always some one or
nudder dyar co'ting her. Well, dat mawnin' we meet 'em right in de
road. 'Twuz de fust time Marse Chan had see her sence de duil, an' he
raises he hat ez he pahss, an' she looks right at 'im wid her head up
in de yair like she nuvver see 'im befo' in her born days; an' when
she comes by me, she sez, 'Good-mawnin', Sam!' Gord! I nuvver see
nuthin' like de look dat come on Marse Chan's face when she pahss 'im
like dat. He gi' de sorrel a pull dat fotch 'im back settin' down in
de san' on he hanches. He ve'y lips wuz white. I tried to keep up wid
'im, but 'twarn' no use. He sont me back home pres'n'y, an' he rid on.
I sez to myself, 'Cun'l Chahmb'lin, don' yo' meet Marse Chan dis
mawnin'. He ain' bin lookin' 'roun' de ole school-house, whar he an'
Miss Anne use' to go to school to ole Mr. Hall together, fur nuffin'.
He won' stan' no prodjickin' to-day.'

"He nuvver come home dat night tell 'way late, an' ef he'd been
fox-huntin' it mus' ha' been de ole red whar lives down in de
greenscum mashes he'd been chasin'. De way de sorrel wuz gormed up wid
sweat an' mire sut'n'y did hu't me. He walked up to de stable wid he
head