University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

That night, while the little family at Ramsay's were sitting
over their evening meal, Abram, one of the plantation negroes,
appeared at the door of the apartment, and abruptly addressed
young Ramsay after the following fashion:

“Look ya, Mass Jack, I want for see you out ya a minute.”

Abram was the driver of the plantation—a sort of superintendant
of details. He was a faithful negro, such as is to be
found on every long established plantation at the South—shrewd,
cool, sensible—perhaps forty years of age—honest, attentive to
his business, and, from habit, assuming the interest which he
managed to be entirely his own. His position gave him consequence,
which he felt and asserted, but never abused. A trick
of speaking very much what was uppermost in his mind, was the
fruit of a just consciousness of duties well performed, leaving him
in no fear of any proper authority. Young Ramsay rose instantly
and obeyed the summons. With some little mystery in his manner,
Abram conducted the youth from the piazza into the yard,
and thence into the shadow of one of the gigantic shade trees by
which the house was literally embowered. Here, looking around
him with the air of one anxious neither to be seen nor overheard,
he thrust a paper into the hands of John Ramsay with this inquiry—

“Dis ya money, Mass Jack,—good money?”

“I will tell you when I look at it by the candle. Why?—
where did you get it?”

“You look at 'em first—I tell you all 'bout 'em arterward.”

John did as was required, returned and reported the bank note—
for it was such, and for twenty dollars—to be utterly worthless—
that, in short, of a broken bank.

“I bin tink so,” said the negro.

“Where did you get it, Abram?”

“Who you speck gib me, Mass Jack?”

“I don't know!”

“Who but Mass Ned Stanton.”

“Ha!—why—when did he give you this money?”

“To-day—when you bin all busy wid de tomb stone of young
Missis. He come by de old creek field, call me out, say I must
come to em in de wood, and den he say to me dat he sorry for
see me ya working for Mossa. Him will help me git off work—I
shall be free man, if I will only go wid him, and bring off many
of the brack people as I kin. He promise me heap of tings, git
me 'nuff tobacco for las' a mont', gib me knife—see dis ya—and
dis money which you say no good money. I bin speck 'em for
bad when he tell me its twenty dollars. Twenty dollars is heap
money, I say to myself. Wha' for he gib me twenty dollars now.
Wha' for he consider my freedom, jes' now, and he nebber bin
tink 'pon 'em before. Someting's wrong, I say to myself, and
Mossa for know—but I neber let on to 'em I 'spec 'em. I say
`da's all right. I will come, Mass Ned. I will see you in de
bush to-night.' Den he shake my hand—say he always bin lub
me—will take me to country whay brack man is gentleman and
hab white wife, and is lawyer, and schoolmosser, and preacher,
and hab white man for dribe he carriage. I yerry em berry
well, but I never le' him see I laugh. But I hab my tongue ya
(thrust to one side of his jaws) and the white ob my eye grow
large as I look 'pon 'em. I know 'em of ole. I bin speck 'em
when he first come ya courting poor Miss Nelly. I no like 'em
den—I no like 'em now. But I mak' blieb I lub 'em too much.
Das for you now to fix 'em. He's for see me to-night by ole
Robin tree in de swamp. Wha' mus do—wha' mus say—how
you gwine fix 'em?”

“You have done right, 'Bram. Before I say any thing, I will
consult my father, and a stranger who is with us.”

“I yerry bout 'em. He's a man, I ya. Flora bin tell me
how he fix Ned Stanton.”

“Well, I'll consult him and my father. Do you remain here
in the meantime. Do not let yourself be seen. Stanton is a villain,
but we have found him out. Stanton is not his real name,
but Ragin.”

“Ragin, eh? Well, we must Ragin 'em. I'll wait 'pon you

ya. But mak' haste—de time is pretty close, and he'll 'spec'
somet'ing ef I aint by de tree when he come.”

John Ramsay re-entered the house, and, in few words, repeated
the substance of the negro's story.

“The scoundrel's bent on being hung,” was the exclamation
of Lamar, with something like a look of exultation. “Let
'Bram encourage him, and give him a meeting for to-morrow
night, promising to bring all the negroes that he can. We shall
be at the meeting. 'Bram shall carry us, though we go as his
comrades, not as his superiors.”

The scheme of Lamar was soon laid. Young Ramsay and
himself were to smut their faces, and, in negro habiliments, were
to impose upon the villain. Lamar promised that the sheriff
should take his hand at the game.

“Our mercy is thrown away upon such a thrice-dyed scoundrel.
His destiny forces the task of vengeance upon us. Go to
Abram, and give him his cue.”