"
"Eh?--what?--ah, yes!--upon the whole I think you had better not be too
severe with the poor fellow--don't flog him, Jupiter--he can't very
well stand it--but can you form no idea of what has occasioned this
illness, or rather this change of conduct? Has anything unpleasant
happened since I saw you?"
"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant _since_ den--'t was _fore_
den I'm feared--'t was de berry day you was dare."
"How? what do you mean?"
"Why, massa, I mean de bug--dare now."
"The what?"
"De bug--I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere bout de
head by dat goole-bug."
"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a supposition?"
"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did see sich a d----d
bug--he kick and he bite every ting what cum near him. Massa Will cotch
him fuss, but had for to let him go gin mighty quick, I tell you--den
was de time he must ha got de bite. I didn't like de look ob de bug
mouff, myself, no how, so I wouldn't take hold ob him wid my finger,
but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. I rap him up in de
paper and stuff piece ob it in he mouff--dat was de way."
"And you think, then, that your master was really bitten by the beetle,
and that the bite made him sick?"
"I don't tink noffin about it--I nose it.
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