And
the bishop would give the word of his coming. He
was a box, that bishop was, in spite of his crazy
streaks; and he had found a way to make himself
stronger than ever with his bunch out of the very
kind of thing that would have spoiled most people's
graft. They had had a big meeting till nearly
morning, and the power had hit 'em strong. Sam
told us all about it.
But the thing that seemed to interest the doctor,
and made him frown, was the idea that all them
niggers round about there still had the idea he was
the feller that had been prophesied to come. All
except Sam, mebby. Sam had spells when he was
real sensible, and other spells when he was as bad
as the believingest of them all.
It was a fine day, and really joyous to be a-walking.
It would of been a good deal joyouser if we had had
some breakfast, but we figgered we would stop
somewheres at noon and lay in a good, square,
country meal.
That wasn't such a very thick settled country.
But everybody seemed to know about the man-
hunt that was going on, here, there, and everywhere.
People would come down to the road side as we
passed, and gaze after us. Or mebby ast us if
we knowed whether he had been ketched yet.
Women and kids mostly, or old men, but now
and then a younger man too. We noticed they
wasn't no niggers to speak of that wasn't
busier'n all get out, working at something or
other, that day.
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