"
"All right," said Nimbus coolly; "jes yer pay my wife what's due
her and we'll leave ez soon ez yer please."
"Due her? You damned black rascal, do you stand there and tell me
I owe her anything?"
Strangely enough, the colored man did not quail. His army life had
taught him to stand his ground, even against a white man, and he
had not yet learned how necessary it was to unlearn the lesson of
liberty and assume again the role of the slave. The white man was
astounded. Here was a "sassy nigger" indeed! This was what freedom
did for them!
"Her papers dat you gib her at de hirin', Marse Potem," said Nimbus,
"says dat yer shall pay her fo' dollars a month an' rations. She's
hed de rations all reg'lar, Marse Desrnit; dat's all right, but
not a dollar ob de money."
"You lie, you black rascal!" said Desmit excitedly; "she's drawn
every cent of it!"
"Wal," said Nimbus, "ef dat's what yer say, we'll hev ter let de
'Bureau' settle it."
"What, sir? You rascal, do you threaten me with the 'Bureau'?"
shouted Desmit, starting toward him in a rage, and aiming a blow
at him with the heavy walking-stick he carried.
"Don't do dat, Marse Desmit," cried the colored man; "don't do
dat!"
There was a dangerous gleam in his eye, but the white man did not
heed the warning. His blow fell not on the colored man's head, but
on his upraised arm, and the next moment the cane was wrested from
his hands, and the recent slave stood over his former master as he
lay upon the floor, where he had fallen or been thrown, and said:
"Don't yer try dat, Marse Desmit; I won't bar it--dat I won't, from
no man, black ner white.
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