“No, missy; his wife an’ two chil’en wuz bu’nt up on de steamboat gwine ter New ‘Leans, some twenty years ergo; an’ de folks sez dat’s wat makes ‘im sich er kintankrus man.  Dey sez fo’ dat he usen ter hab meetin’ on his place, an’ he wuz er Christyun man hisse’f; but he got mad ‘long er de Lord caze de steamboat bu’nt up, an’ eber sence dat he’s been er mighty wicked man; an’ he won’t let none er his folks sarve de Lord; an’ he don’t ‘pyear ter cyar fur nuffin’ ’cep’n hit’s money.  But den, honey, he ain’t no born gemmun, nohow; he’s jes only er oberseer wat made ‘im er little money, an’ bought ’im er few niggers; an’, I tells yer, he makes ’em wuck, too; we’se got ter be in de fiel’ long fo’ day; an’ I ober-slep mysef tudder mornin’ an he Wuz cussin’ an’ er gwine on, an’ ‘lowed he wuz gwine ter whup me, an’ so I des up an’ runned erway fum ‘im, an’ now I’se skyeert ter go back; an’, let erlone dat, I’se skyeert ter stay; caze, efn he gits Mr. Upson’s dogs, dey’ll trace me plum hyear; an’ wat I is ter do I dunno; I jes prays constunt ter de Lord.  He’ll he’p me, I reckon, caze I prays tree times eby day, an’ den in ’tween times.”

“Is your name Brer Dan’l?” asked Dumps, who remembered Uncle Bob’s story of Daniel’s praying three times a day.

“No, honey, my name’s Pomp; but den I’m er prayin’ man, des same ez Danl’ wuz.”

“Well, Uncle Pomp,” said Diddie, “you stay here just as long as you can, an’ I’ll ask papa to see Mr. Tight-fis’ Smith, an’ he’ll get—­”

“Lor’, chile,” interrupted Uncle Pomp, “don’t tell yer pa nuf’n ’boutn it; he’ll sho’ ter sen’ me back, an’ dat man’ll beat me half ter def; caze I’se mos’ loss er week’s time now, an’ hit’s er mighty ’tickler time in de crap.”

“But, s’posin’ the dogs might come?” said Dumps.

“Well, honey, dey ain’t come yit; an’ wen dey duz come, den hit’ll be time fur ter tell yer pa.”

“Anyhow, we’ll bring you something to eat,” said Diddie, “and try and help you all we can; but we must go back now, befo’ Mammy hunts for us; so good-bye;” and again they left him to himself.

As they neared the house, Dumps asked Diddie how far it was to Mr.  “Tight-fis’ Smith’s.”

“I don’t know exactly,” said Diddie; “’bout three miles, I think.”

“Couldn’t we walk there, an’ ask him not to whup Uncle Pomp?  Maybe he wouldn’t, ef we was ter beg him right hard.”

“Yes, that’s jest what we’ll do, Dumps; and we’ll get Dilsey to go with us, ’cause she knows the way.”

Dilsey was soon found, and was very willing to accompany them, but was puzzled to know why they wanted to go.  The children, however, would not gratify her curiosity, and they started at once, so as to be back in time for dinner.

It was all of three miles to Mr. Smith’s plantation, and the little girls were very tired long before they got there.  Dumps, indeed, almost gave out, and once began to cry, and only stopped with Diddie’s reminding her of poor Uncle Pomp, and with Dilsey’s carrying her a little way.