As I drove into the yard, a bare-headed old nigger with a game leg throwed down an armful of wood he was gathering and went limping up to the veranda as fast as he could.

He opened the door and bawled out, pointing to us, before he had it fairly open: "O Marse WILLyum! O Miss LUCY! Dey've brung him home! DAR he!" A little, bright, black-eyed old lady like a wren comes running out of the house, and chirps: "O Bud--O my honey boy! Is he dead ?" "I reckon not, Miss Lucy," says Bud raising himself up on the mattress as she runs up to the wagon, and trying to act like everything was all a joke.

She was jest high enough to kiss him over the edge of the wagon box.

A worried-looking old gentleman come out the door, seen Bud and his mother kissing each other, and then says to the old nigger man: "George, yo' old fool, what do yo' mean by shouting out like that ?" "Marse Willyum--" begins George, explaining.
"Shut up," says the old gentleman, very quiet.

"Take the bay mare and go for Doctor Po'ter." Then he comes to the wagon and says: "So they got yo', Bud?
Yo' WOULD go nightriding like a rowdy and a thug! Are yo' much hurt ?" He said it easy and gentle, more than mad.