"
"Der ain't no mite ob trouble 'bout dat ar, nary mite," said Berry,
confidently. "You knows what sort uv a wuk-hand I is in de crap,
Bre'er Nimbus?"
"Yes, I knows dat," was the reply; "but de cap'n sez dat it mout
take two or tree year ter git dese cases fru de court, an' dar
must, of co'se, be a heap ob cost an' trouble 'bout 'em."
"An' he's right tu', Bre'er Nimbus," said Berry seriously.
"Dat's so, Berry," answered Nimbus, "an' on account ob dat, an' der
fac' dat yer hain't got no money an' can't afford ter resk de wages
dat yer family needs ter lib on, an' 'cause 'twould make smart ob
feelin' an' yer don't stan' well fer a fa'r show afore de court
an' jury, kase of yer color, _he_ sez yer'd better jes thank
de Lo'd fer gittin' off ez well ez yer hev, an' try ter look out
fer breakers in de futur. He sez ez how it's all wrong an' hard
an' mean an' all dat, but he sez, tu, dat yer ain't in no sort ob
fix ter make a fight on't wid Marse Sykes. Now, what _you_
think, Berry?"
The person addressed twirled his narrow-brimmed felt hat upon his
finger for a time and then said, looking suddenly up at the other:
"Uncle Nimbus, Berry's right smart ob a fool, but damn me ef I
don't b'lieve de Cap'n's in de right on't. What you say, now?"
Nimbus had seated himself and was looking toward the darkening west
with a gloomy brow. After a moment's silence he said:
"I'se mighty feared yer both right, Bre'er Berry.
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