"Colossus, will you do ez I tell you, or shell I hev to strike you,
saw?"
"O Mahs Jimmy, I--I's gwine; but"--he ventured nearer--"don't on no
account drink nothin', Mahs Jimmy."
Such was the negro's earnestness that he put one foot in the gutter, and
fell heavily against his master. The parson threw him off angrily.
"Thar, now! Why, Colossus, you most of been dosted with sumthin'; yo'
plum crazy.--Humph, come on, Jools, let's eat! Humph! to tell me that
when I never taken a drop, exceptin' for chills, in my life--which he
knows so as well as me!"
The two masters began to ascend a stair.
"_Mais_, he is a sassy; I would sell him, me," said the young Creole.
"No, I wouldn't do that," replied the parson; "though there is people in
Bethesdy who says he is a rascal. He's a powerful smart fool. Why, that
boy's got money, Jools; more money than religion, I reckon. I'm shore he
fallen into mighty bad company"--they passed beyond earshot.
Baptiste and Colossus, instead of going to the tavern kitchen, passed to
the next door and entered the dark rear corner of a low grocery, where,
the law notwithstanding, liquor was covertly sold to slaves.
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