Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1894-01-24
I'VE are not at home, and I'll never get

I'VE are not at home, and I'll never get
there. am going to die.
Isam gave yell that ought to have
been heard mile away.
''Oh, dom let i'm die. Skeer i'm,
rkeer i'm, Lord, but don let i'm del!
Yes continued the major, Il am
going to die, but let tell you something,
Isam. l have been looking into this
beasts eyes until l recognize him.
A sound came from the haw bush Ike
the hiss of snake, as the negro with
ashen face and beaded brow gasped out
an unintelligible word. The right
chord had been touched at last. You
remember DR.. Sam .'' Isam's only re-
ply was a moan that betrayed an agony
too deep for expression. well. this Is
DR.. Sam. He got loose the other day
when the plug fell out. and he and l
will never give you another hour OF
peace as long as you liye"-
The sentence was never finished.
With shrek that was blood curdling
in its intensity of fear and horror, the
negro came crashing down through the
bush with his hands full Of leaves,
straight upon the deer.
This was the crisis.
The frightened animal made one des-
perate plunge, taking the startled ma
jor by surprise, and the next instant
found himself free. He did not remain
upon the scene or he would have beheld
the terrified negro get upon his feet, run
round in a frenzy of terror and close
his last circle at the foot of the bush, up
which he scurried again like squirrel,
old as he was. The major lay fiat up
on his back, after trying in vain to rise.
Then the reaction came. He fixed
his eye upon the negro above and
laughed until the tears washed the dirt
from his face, and Isam, holding his
head up SO that his vision could encom-
pass the narrow horizon, said slowly
and impressively:
Mass Craffud, ef de Lord hadn't
'sist'd on Isam cum n down ter run dat
deer off, spec by dis time you d been
er-fopp'n yo' wings up yander, er else
sput'n on er grindi' on down yander. "
And from his elevated perch Isam indi-
Gated the two extremes of eternity with
an eloquent sweep of his hand.
But the major had small time for
laughter or recrimination. In the dis
lance there rang out family the full
mouthed cry of a hound. lsam heard
it. For him it was at once welcome
and stimulating sound. Gliding to
the ground, he helped the wearied ma
jor to his feet and started on the run
for the boat, crying:
Run, Mass Crafud-wors deer's
cummin. Hits dem folks wat know
about dat corn en- watermilluns, en- yer
can't 'splain nuthin ter er houn dog.
Broken down as he was, the major
realized that there was wisdom in the
negro's words and followed as best he
could. The camp traps were thrown
into the boat, and the little bark was
launched. A minute later the form of
a great, thirsty looking hound, the rum
away's bette noir, appeared ON the scene.
But the hunters who came after found
naught beyond the signs of camp, if
they found anything, and soon follow
ed the hound, which had regained the
trail of the buck and yelping passed
into the distance. The boat had long
since passed the bend.
How Isam ever settled his difficulty
needs no explanation. But it may in
terest the reader to know that one day
he bore a message and check that set
tied the corn and melon debt, and they
tell it in middle Georgia that every year
thereafter, until the war cloud broke
over the land, whenever the catalpa
worm crept upon the leaf, two runaways
fled from Woodhaven and dwelt in the
swamps, "loos' en- free"
THE END.