I couldn’t a done it, because that nigger busted in and says:
“Why, de gracious sakes! do he know you genlmen?”
We could see pretty well now. Tom he looked at the nigger, steady and kind of wondering, and says:
“Does who know us?”
“Why, dis-yer runaway nigger.”
“I don’t reckon he does; but what put that into your head?”
“What put it dar? Didn’ he jis’ dis minute sing out like he knowed you?”
Tom says, in a puzzled-up kind of way:
“Well, that’s mighty curious. Who sung out? When did he sing out? What did he sing out?” And turns to me, perfectly ca’m, and says, “Did you hear anybody sing out?”