Little Simon got down on his knees, and called loudly upon God to finish his work, and never let the overseer again enter a cotton field.

"Let him die, Lord," said he, "let him.

He's killed enough of us: Oh, good Lord, let him die and not live." "Peace, peace! it is a bad spirit," said Uncle Solomon, "God himself willeth not the death of a sinner." I followed the old woman to the house; and found Huckstep at the foot of one of those trees, so common at the South, called the Pride of China.
His face was black, and there was a frightful contusion on the side of his head.

He was carried into the house, where, on my bleeding him, he revived.

He lay in great pain for several days, and it was nearly three weeks before he was able to come out to the cotton fields.
On returning to the field after Huckstep had revived, I found the hands sadly disappointed to hear that he was still living.