riously.

"Yasser, Mars. George; I'm dat ve'y nigger."

"What do you want with me?"

"I des wanter tell you, Mars. George, dat dey's a freshet come fum
'bove, en Murder Creek is 'way out'n hits banks. You can't cross dar
wid no hoss en buggy dis night."

The young man reflected a moment. He was more interested in the
attitude of the negro than he was in the extent of the freshet or the
danger of an attempt to cross the creek.

"I've a knack of crossing Murder Creek in a freshet," he said. "But why
should you want to keep me out of it?"

"Well, sir, fer one thing," said Blue Dave, shifting about on his feet
uneasily, "you look so much like my young marster w'at died in
Perginny. En den dat day w'en de speckerlater put me up on de block,
you 'uz settin' dar straddle er yo' pony, en you 'lowed dat he oughter
be 'shame er hisse'f fer ter chain me up dat a-way."

"Oh, I remember. I made quite a fool of myself that day."

"Yasser; en den w'en de man say sump'n' sassy back, little ez you wuz,
you spurred de pony at 'im en tole 'im you'd slap 'im in de jaw. He 'uz
de skeer'dest w'ite man I ever see. I say ter myse'f den dat I hope de
day'd come w'en dat little boy'd grow up en buy me; en dat make I say
w'at I does. I want you to keep out 'n dat creek dis night, en den I
want you ter buy me. Please, sir, buy me, Mars. George; I make you de
bes' nigger you ever had."

"Why, great Jerusalem! you wouldn't be on my place a week before you'd
get your feelings hurt and rush off to the woods, and I'd never see you
any more."

"Des try me, Mars. George! des try me. I'll work my arms off ter de
elbows, en den I'll work wid de stumps. Des try me, Mars. George!"

"I expect you would be a right good hand if you hadn't been free so
long. Go home and let me see how you can work for your master, and then
maybe I'll think about buying you."

"Eh-eh, Mars. George! I better go jump in a burnin' bresh-pile. Ain't
you gwine ter tu'n back, Mars. George?"

"Not to-night. Go home and behave yourself."

With that George Denham clucked to his restive horse, and went
clattering down the road in the direction of Murder Creek, which
crossed the highway a mile further on. Blue Dave stood still a moment,
scratching his head and looking after the buggy.

"Is anybody ever see de beat er dat?" he exclaimed. "Ef Mars. George
gits in dat creek, dey's got ter be a merakel come 'bout ef he gits
out." He stood in the road a moment longer, still sc