" He lay
back on the pine tags and stared straight above where the long green
needles were illuminated on a background of purple space. A few fireflies
made golden points among the tree-tops.
"Well, I'se got a hunk er middlin'," pursued Big Abel thoughtfully, "a
strip er fat en a strip er lean des like hit oughter be--but a nigger
'ooman she gun hit ter me, en I 'low Ole Marster wouldn't tech hit wid a
ten-foot pole." He stuck the meat upon the end of Dan's bayonet and held it
before the flames. "Ole Marster wouldn't tech hit, but den he ain' never
had dese times."
"You're right," replied Dan idly, filling his pipe and lighting it with a
small red ember, "and all things considered, I don't think I'll raise any
racket about that middling, Big Abel."
"Hit ain' all nigger food, no how," added Big Abel reflectively, "caze de
'ooman she done steal it f'om w'ite folks sho's you bo'n."
"I only wish she had been tempted to steal some bread along with it,"
rejoined Dan.
Big Abel's answer was to draw a hoecake wrapped in an old newspaper from
his pocket and place it on a short pine stump. Then he reached for his
jack-knife and carefully slit the hoecake down the centre, after which he
laid the bacon in slices between the crusts.
"Did she steal that, too?" inquired Dan laughing.
"Naw, suh, I stole dis."
"Well, I never! You'll be ashamed to look the Major in the face when the
war is over."
Big Abel nodded gloomily as he passed the sandwich to Dan, who divided it
into two equal portions.
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