o busy
fryin' um dinner. Oh, Mass' George, what a bit ob fun!"

Pompey threw himself down, and laughed till the tears rolled down his
cheeks.

"I ten times--hund times more frightum than you, Mass' George. I tought
um catch dis nigger for sartum, an' I felt so sorry for you, Mass'
George, dat I holler out loud."

"Sorry for me?"

"Yes, sah. What you do widout Pomp?"

"Come along," I said, half surlily, half amused at the easy-going,
light-hearted way in which the boy could forget the horrible peril in
which he had placed himself.

"You berry sorry too, Mass' George.--I know."

"Know what?"

"How catch um 'gator?"

"How?"

"Pompey know. Show um a morrow. Good-bye, sah. Bring you 'noder
dinner morrow morning."

He made a mock salutation in the direction he believed the reptile to
have taken, and then together we began to thread our way through the
trees, back toward the clearing, and then after another cautious look
round for snakes made for the garden. But before we were within a
hundred yards, Pomp stopped.

"Ole massa in big garden, Mass' George?"

"I don't know," I said. "He was going to be back to dinner."

"I go round de oder way. Mass' say I chop wood, and I was going to chop
wood till I hear you say Morgan you go for walk, and I know you go for
'wim."

"Well?"

"Pomp very hurt upon Mass' George."

"Oh, were you?" I said.

"Mass' George say cruel fing to Pomp, so um go an' fess de ole 'gator
head, and undress umself, an' get in de water firs, an' fright um."

"Ah, well, you'll be flogged one of these days, Master Pomp, without my
telling tales of you."

"I 'pose I will," he said, thoughtfully. "No like for Mass' George
tell, dough."

"Why not?"

"Cos dat hurt Pomp more dan de floggum."

"Nonsense!"

"Eh? Dat nonsense, Mass' George? I don't know. If Mass' Morgan tell
and get Pomp flog, Pomp holler, `Oh don't, oh don't!' an' fro himself on
de ground, an' squiggle an' kick. But soon as done flog um, Pomp rub um
back up gen tree, an' nebber mine a bit."

"I suppose so," I said.

"But if Mass' George tell an' get Pomp flog, dunno why, but no use rub
back gen de tree. Hurt Pomp all de same."

So Pomp ran off to get round to the wood-shed, where I heard him as I
reached the house chopping away as hard as he could, and making the wood
fly; and I need hardly say I did not tell any tales about the boy's
trick, though I thought about it a great deal.

My ideas of punis