an' he swell up, twell he as big as a
house, an' he say in a voice whut shake de ground:

"Dey ain't no ghosts."

So li'l black Mose he bound to remimber dat, an' he rise up an' mek a
bow, an' he proceed toward home right libely. He do, indeed.

An' he gwine along jes as fast as he kin whin he come to de aidge ob de
buryin'-ground whut on de hill, an' right dar he bound to stop, 'ca'se
de kentry round about am so populate he ain't able to go frough. Yas,
sah, seem like all de ghostes in de world havin' de conferince right
dar. Seem like all de ghosteses whut yever was am havin' a convintion on
dat spot. An' dat li'l black Mose so skeered he jes fall down on e' old
log whut dar an' screech an' moan! An' all on a suddent de log up and
spoke to li'l Mose:

"_Get offen me! Get offen me!_" yell dat log.

So li'l black Mose he git offen dat log, an' no mistake.

An' soon as he git offen de log, de log uprise, an' li'l black Mose he
see dat dat log am de king ob all de ghostes. An' whin de king uprise,
all de congregation crowd round li'l black Mose, an' dey am about leben
millium an' a few lift over. Yes, sah; dat de reg'lar annyul Hallowe'en
convintion whut li'l black Mose interrup. Right dar am all de sperits in
de world, an' all de ha'nts in de world, an' all de hobgoblins in de
world, an' all de ghouls in de world, an' all de spicters in de world,
an' all de ghostes in de world. An' whin dey see li'l black Mose, dey
all gnash dey teef an' grin 'ca'se it gettin' erlong toward dey-all's
lunchtime. So de king, whut he name old Skull-an'-Bones, he step on top
ob li'l Mose's head, an' he say:

"Gin'l'min, de convintion will come to order. De sicretary please note
who is prisint. De firs' business whut come before de convintion am:
whut we gwine do to a li'l black boy whut stip on de king an' maul all
ober de king an' treat de king dat disdespictful."

An' li'l black Mose jes moan an' sob:

"'Scuse me! 'Scuse me, Mistah King! Ah ain't mean no harm _at_ all."

But nobody ain't pay no attintion to him at all, 'ca'se yevery one
lookin' at a monstrous big ha'nt whut name Bloody Bones, whut rose up
an' spoke.

"Your Honor, Mistah King, an' gin'l'min _an'_ ladies," he say, "dis am a
right bad case ob _lazy majesty_, 'ca'se de king been step on. Whin
yevery li'l black boy whut choose gwine wander round at night an' stip
on de king of ghostes, it ain't no time for to palaver, it ain't no time
for to prevaricate, it ain't