eat but berries an'
roots an' sich like truck for long while."

"Well, why by the devil haven't you had something else then? what've you
been doing with yourselves for 'long while'? what d'ye mean, coming here
starved to death, making a fellow sick to look at you? Hold your gab,
and eat up that pork," pushing over his tin plate, "'n' that bread,"
sending it after, "'n' that hard tack,--'tain't very good, but it's
better'n roots, I reckon, or berries either,--'n' gobble up that coffee,
double-quick, mind; and don't you open your heads to talk till the
grub's gone, slick and clean. Ugh!" he said to the Captain,--"sight o'
them fellows just took my appetite away; couldn't eat to save my soul;
lucky they came to devour the rations; pity to throw them away." The
Captain smiled,--he knew Jim. "Poor cusses!" he added presently, "eat
like cannibals, don't they? hope they enjoy it. Had enough?" seeing they
had devoured everything put before them.

"Thankee, massa. Yes, massa. Bery kind, massa. Had quite 'nuff."

"Well, now, you, sir!" looking at the little one,--"by the way, what's
your name?"

"'Bijah, if ye please, massa."

"'Bijah? Abijah, hey? well, I don't please; however, it's none of my
name. Well, 'Bijah, how came you two to be looking like a couple of
animated skeletons? that's the next question."

"Yes, massa."

"I say, how came you to be starved? Hai'n't they nothing but roots and
berries up your way? Mass' George Wingate must have a jolly time,
feasting, in that case. Come, what's your story? Out with the whole pack
of lies at once."

"I hope massa thinks we wouldn't tell nuffin but de truf," said Jim, who
had not before spoken save to say, "Thankee,"--"cause if he don't bleeve
us, ain't no use in talkin'."

"You shut up! I ain't conversing with you, rawbones! Speak when you're
spoken to! Come, 'Bijah, fire away."

"Bery good, massa. Ye see I'se Mass' George Wingate's boy. Mass' George
he lives in de back country, good long way from de coast,--over a
hundred miles, Jim calklates,--an' Jim's smart at calklating; well,
Mass' George he's not berry good to his people; never was, an' he's been
wuss'n ever since the Linkum sojers cum round his way, 'cause it's made
feed scurce ye see, an' a lot of de boys dey tuck to runnin' away,--so
what wid one ting an' anoder, his temper got spiled, an' he was mighty
hard on us all de time.

"At las' I got tired of bein' cuffed an' knocked round, an' den I yearde
dat if