Shifting from one foot to the other the younger man finally broke away
from Uncle Billy's eye and tried to pass him by.

"Den _I'll_ tell you whar you gwine," shouted Uncle Billy, furious at
last. "You's runnin' 'way to de Yankees, dat's whar you gwine."

At this too truthful thrust Jeems Henry saw that further deceit would be
futile and he faced Uncle Billy with sullen resentment.

"An' s'posin' I _is_--wat den?"

"Den you's a thief," retorted Uncle Billy with dismayingly quick wit.
"Dat's what you is--a _thief_."

"I _ain'_ no thief," Jeems Henry refuted stubbornly, "_I_ ain' stole
nothin'."

"You is too," and Uncle Billy's forefinger began to shake in the
other's face. "You's stealin' a _nigger_!"

"What dat?" and Jeems Henry's eyes opened wide with amazement. "What you
talkin' 'bout?"

"Talkin' 'bout _you_," replied Uncle Billy, sharper than ever. "Dey say
a nigger's wuth a thousan' dollars. 'Cose _you_ ain't wuth dat much," he
said with utter disgust. "I put you down at a dollar and a quarter. But
dat ain't de p'int," and he steadily advanced on the other till their
faces were only a few inches apart. "It's dis. _You_, Jeems Henry,
belongs to Mars' Herbert Cary an' Miss Hallie; an' when you runs 'way