Balaam and His Master, and Other Sketches and Stories. Joel Chandler Harris

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СКАЧАТЬ right out. I ’low, ‘Dey call ’im Balaam, an’ dey have ter whale ’im.’ De man he laugh, ‘He got a great big scyar on de side er his neck now whar somebody hit ’im a diff, an’ he lay roun’ dem hotels an’ drink dram all night long.’ De man look sideways at my neck. ‘Dat nigger got so bad dat his marster had ter sell ’im, an’ dey tells me, suh, dat de man w’at buy ’im ain’ no mo’ dan paid de money fer ’im dan he have ter take ’im down and strop ’im.’

      “Well, suh, de man look at me an laugh so funny dat it make my ve’y limbs ache. Yes, suh. My heart hit up ’g’inst my ribs des like a flutter-mill; an’ I wuz so skeered it make my tongue run slicker dan sin. He ax me mo’ questions dan I could answer now, but I made answer den des like snappin’ my fingers. W’at make me de mo’ skeered was de way dat ar white man done. He’d look at me an’ laugh, an’ de plumper I gin ’im de answer de mo’ he’d laugh. I say ter myse’f, I did: ‘Balaam, you’r’ a goner, dat w’at you is. De man know you, an’ de fust calaboose he come ter he gwine slap you in dar.’ I had a mighty good notion ter jump out er dat buggy an’ make a break fer de woods, but stidder dat I sot right whar I wuz, kaze I knowed in reason dat ef de man want me right bad an’ I wuz ter break an’ run he’d fetch me down wid a pistol.

      “Well, suh, dat man joke an’ laugh de whole blessed mornin,’ an’ den bimeby we drove in a town not much bigger dan Bivvle” (which was Balaam’s pet name for Billville), “an’ dar de white man say we’d stop fer dinner. He ain’t say de word too soon fer me, mon, kaze I was so hongry an’ tired it make my head swim. We driv up ter tavern, we did, an’ de folks dar dey holler, ‘Howdy, Judge,’ an’ de white man he holler ‘Howdy’ back, an’ den he tol’ me ter take de horses an’ buggy down ter de liberty stable an’ have ’em fed, an’ den come back an’ git my dinner. Dat wuz mighty good news; but whilst I wuz eatin’ my dinner I hear dat white man laughin’, an’ it come over me dat he know who I wuz an’ dat he wuz gwine ter gi’ me up; yit dat ain’t hender my appetite, an’ I des sot dar an’ stuff myse’f tell I des make de yuther niggers open der eyes. An’ den, when I git my belly full, I sot in de sun an’ went right fast ter sleep. I ’spec’ I tuck a right smart nap, kaze when some un hollered at me an’ woke me up de sun wuz gwine down de hill right smartly. I jumped up on my feet, I did, an’ I say, ‘Who dat callin’ me?’ Somebody ’low, ‘Yo’ marster want you.’ Den I bawl out, ‘Is Marse Berry come?’ De niggers all laugh, an’ one un ’em say, ‘Dat nigger man dreamin’, mon. He ain’t woke good yit.’

      “By dat time I done come ter my senses, an’ den I ax dem wharbouts marster is. Bimeby, when I done foun’ de white man w’at bring me in his buggy, he look at me sorter funny an’ say, ‘You know whar you lef’ my buggy: well, you go down an’ raise up de seat an’ fetch me de little box you’ll fin’ in dar. Wrop it up in de buggy rug an’ fetch it an’ put it on de table dar.’ Well, suh, I went an’ got dat box, an’ time I put my han’ on it I knowed des ’zactly w’at wuz on de inside er it. I done seed too many er ’em. It wuz under lock an’ key, but I knowed it wuz a farrar box like dem w’at Marse Berry done his gamblin’ wid. By de time I got back ter de room in de tavern de white man done had de table kivered wid a piece er cloff w’at he got out ’n his satchel. He tuck de box, onlocked it, rattled de chips in his han’, an’ shuffled de kyards. Den he look at me an’ laugh. He was de quarest white man dat ever I laid eyes on.

      “Atter while I ax ’im ef I hadn’t better be gitten’ ’long todes de eend er my journey. He ’low: ‘Lord, no! I want you ter set round yere atter supper an’ gi’ me luck. You ain’t losin’ no time, kaze I’m a-gwine plumb to Chattanoogy, an’ ef you’ll be ez spry ez you kin be I’ll take you ’long wid me.’ De ups an’ odds er it was dat I stayed wid de man. De folks named ’im Judge, an’ he was a judge, mon. ’Long ’bout nine dat night he come ter his room, whar I was waitin’ fer ’im, an’ soon atter dat de young gentlemens ’bout town ’gun ter drap in, an’ ’t wa’n’t long ’fo’ de game got started. Look like de man ain’t wanter play, but de yuthers dey kep’ on coaxin’, an’ presently he fotch out de box an’ opened up. Well, sah, I done seed lots er gamblin’ fust an’ last, but dat white man beat my time. Dey played poker, stidder farrar, an’ it look like ter me dat de man done got de kyards trained. He dealt ’em ’boveboard, an’ dey des come in his han’ ’zackly like he want ’em ter come. Ef he had any tricks like w’at Marse Berry played on folks, dey was too slick fer my eye, yit he des beated dem yuther mens scand’lous. It was des like one er dese yere great big river cats ketchin’ minners.

      “Atter dey been playin’ some little time, de white man what brung me dar ’low: ‘Boy, you better go git some sleep. We’ll start soon in de mornin’.’ But I say, ‘No, suh; I’ll des set in de cornder here an’ nod, an’ I’ll be close by ef so be you want me.’ I sot dar, I did, an’ I had a good chance ter sleep, kaze, bless yo’ heart! dem mens ain’t make much fuss. Dey des grip der kyards an’ sorter hol’ der bref. Sometimes one un ’em would break out an’ cuss a word er two, but inginer’lly dey ’d plank up der scads an’ lose ’em des like dey wuz usen ter it. De white man w’at dey call Judge he des wiped ’em up, an’ at de een’ he wuz des ez fresh ez he wuz at de start. It wuz so nigh day when de game broke up dat Marse Judge ’lowed dat it was too late fer supper an’ not quite soon ’nough fer breakfas’, an’ den he say he wuz gwine ter take a walk an’ git some a’r.

      “Well, suh, it wuz dat away all de time I wuz wid dat white man—laughin’ an’ jokin’ all day, an’ gamblin’ all night long. How an’ when he got sleep I’ll never tell you, kaze he wuz wide awake eve’y time I seed ’im. It went on dis away plumb till we got ter de Tennessy River, dar whar Chattynoogy is. Atter we sorter rested, de white man tuck me ’cross de river, an’ we druv on ter whar de stage changes hosses. Dar we stopped, an’ whilst I wuz waitin’ fer de stage de white man ’low, ‘Balaam!’ He kotch me so quick, dat I jump des like I’d been shot, an’ hollered out, ‘Suh!’ Den he laugh sorter funny, an’ say: ‘Don’t look skeered, Balaam; I knowed you fum de offstart. You’r’ a mighty good boy, but yo’ marster is a borned rascal. I’m gwine send you whar you say he is, an’ I want you ter tell ’im dis fum me—dat dough he tried ter rob me, yit fer de sake er his Cousin Sally, I he’ped you ter go whar he is.’

      “Den de man got in his buggy an’ driv back, an’ dat de las’ time I ever laid eyes on ’im. When de stage come ’long I got up wid de driver, an’ ’t wa’n’t long ’fo’ I wuz wid Marse Berry, an’ I ain’t no sooner seed ’im dan I knowed he was gwine wrong wuss and wuss: not but w’at he was glad kaze I come, but it look like his face done got mo’ harder. Well, suh, it was des dat away. I ain’t gwine ter tell you all w’at he done an’ how he done it, kaze he was my own marster, an’ he never hit me a lick amiss, ’ceppin’ it was when he was a little boy. I ain’t gwine ter tell you whar we went an’ how we got dar, kaze dey done been too much talk now. But we drapped down inter Alabam’, an’ den inter Massasip’, an’ den inter Arkansaw, an’ back ag’in inter Massasip’; an’ one night whilst we wuz on one er dem big river boats, Marse Berry he got inter a mighty big row. Dey wuz playin’ kyards fer de bigges’ kind er stakes, an’ fust news I know de lie was passed, an’ den de whole gang made fer Marse Berry. Dey whipped out der knives an’ der pistols, an’ it look like it wuz gwine ter be all night wid Marse Berry. Well, suh, I got so skeered dat I picked up a cheer an’ smashed de nighest man, and by dat time Marse Berry had shot one; an’, suh, we des cleaned ’em out. Den Marse Berry made a dash fer de low’-mos’ deck, an’ I dashed atter ’im. Den I hear sumpin’ go ker-slosh in de water, an’ I ’lowed it was Marse Berry, an’ in I splunged head-foremos’. An’ den—but, Lord, suh, you know de balance des good ez I does, kaze I hear tell dat dey wuz sumpin’ n’er ’bout it in de papers.”

      This was as far as Balaam ever would go with the story of his adventure. He СКАЧАТЬ