Jeff's Treasure

by Edward Payson Roe

Chapter I. Its DiscoveryJeff, the hero of my tale, was as truly a part of the SouthernConfederacy as the greater Jeff at Richmond. Indeed, were it notfor the humbler Jeff and the class he represented, the other Jeffwould never have attained his eminence.Jeff's prospects were as dark as himself. He owned nothing, noteven himself, yet his dream of riches is the motive of my tale.Begarded as a chattel, for whom a bill of sale would have beenmade as readily as for a bullock, he proved himself a man andbrother by a prompt exhibition of traits too common to humannature when chance and some heroism on his part gave into hishands the semblance of a fortune.Jeff was a native Virginian and belonged to an F.F.V. in a certainpractical, legal sense which thus far had not greatly disturbedhis equanimity. His solid physique and full shining face showedthat slavery had brought no horrors into his experience. He hadindulged, it is true, in vague yearnings for freedom, but thesehad been checked by hearing that liberty meant "working forYankees"--appalling news to an indolent soul. He was house-servantand man-of-all-work in a family whose means had always beenlimited, and whose men were in the Confederate army. His "missus"evinced a sort of weary content when he had been scolded orthreatened into the completion of his tasks by nightfall. He thengave her and her daughters some compensation for their trials withhim by producing his fiddle and making the warm summer eveningresonant with a kind of music which the negro only can evoke. Jeffwas an artist, and had a complacent consciousness of the fact. Hewas a living instance of the truth that artists are born, notmade. No knowledge of this gifted class had ever suggestedkinship; he did not even know what the word meant, but when hischeek rested lovingly against his violin he felt that he was madeof different clay from other "niggahs." During the day he indulgedin moods by the divine right and impulse of genius, imitating hisgifted brothers unconsciously. In waiting on the table, washingdishes, and hoeing the garden, he was as great a laggard asPegasus would have been if compelled to the labors of a cart-horse; but when night came, and uncongenial toil was over, hissoul expanded. His corrugated brow unwrinkled itself; his greatblack fingers flew back and forth over the strings as if driven byelectricity; and electric in effect were the sounds produced byhis swiftly-glancing bow.While the spirit of music so filled his heart that he could playto the moon and silent stars, an audience inspired him withtenfold power, especially if the floor was cleared or a smoothsward selected for a dance. Rarely did he play long before all whocould trip a measure were on their feet, while even thesuperannuated nodded and kept time, sighing that they were old.His services naturally came into great demand, and he was catholicin granting them--his mistress in good-natured tolerance accedingto requests which promised many forgetful hours at a time when theland was shadowed by war. So it happened that Jeff was often atthe more pretending residences of the neighborhood, sometimesfiddling in the detached kitchen of a Southern mansion to theshuffle of heavy feet, again in the lighted parlor, especiallywhen Confederate troops were quartered near. It was then that hisstrains took on their most inspiring and elevated character. Hegave wings to the dark-eyed Southern girls; their feet scarcelytouched the floor as they whirled with their cavaliers in gray, orthreaded the mazes of the cotillon then and there in vogue.Nor did he disdain an invitation to a crossroads tavern,frequented by poor whites and enlisted men, or when the nightswere warm, to a moonlit sward, on which he would invite hisaudience to a reel which left all breathless. While there was arollicking element in the strains of his fiddle which a deaconcould not resist, he, with the intuition of genius, adaptedhimself to the class before him. In the parlor, he called off thefigures of a quadrille with a "by-yer-leave-sah" air, selecting,as a rule, the highest class of music that had blessed his ears,for he was ear-taught only. He would hold a half-washed dishsuspended minutes at a time while listening to one "ob de youngmissys at de pianny. Dat's de way I'se pick up my most scrumptiouspieces. Dey cyant play nuffin in de daytime dat I cyant 'prove onin de ebenin';" and his vanity did not lead him much astray. Butwhen with those of his own color, or with the humbler classes, hegave them the musical vernacular of the region--rude traditionalquicksteps and songs, strung together with such variations of hisown as made him the envy and despair of all other fiddlers in thevicinity. Indeed, he could rarely get away from a great housewithout a sample of his powers in this direction, and thenblending with the rhythmical cadence of feet, the rustle ofgarments, would be evoked ripples of mirth and bursts of laughterthat were echoed back from the dim pine-groves without. Finally,when with his great foot beating time on the floor and everymuscle of his body in motion, he ended with an originalarrangement of "Dixie," the eyes of the gentlest maiden wouldflash as she joined the chorus of the men in gray, who werescarcely less excited for the moment than they would have been ina headlong cavalry charge.These were moments of glory for Jeff. In fact, on all similaroccasions he had a consciousness of his power; he made the slaveforget his bondage, the poor whites their poverty, maidens theabsence of their fathers, brothers, and lovers, and the soldierthe chances against his return.At last there came a summer day when other music than that ofJeff's fiddle resounded through that region. Two armies met andgrappled through the long sultry hours. Every moment death woundswere given and received, for thick as insects in woods, grove, andthicket, bullets whizzed on their fatal mission; while from everyeminence the demoniacal shells shrieked in exultation over thehavoc they wrought.Jeff's home was on the edge of the battlefield, and as he trembledin the darkest corner of the cellar, he thought, "Dis yer beatsall de thunder-gusts I eber heered crack, run togedder in one bighurricane."With the night came silence, except as it was broken by the groansand cries of wounded men; and later the contending forcesdeparted, having accorded to the fallen such poor burial as wasgiven them when life was cheap and death the chief harvester inVirginia.For a day or two Jeff's conscience was active, and the memory ofthe resolutions inspired by the din of war gave to his thin visagea preternatural seriousness. Dishes were washed in such brief timeand so thoroughly, and such havoc made in the garden-weeds thatthe world might make a note of Jeff's idea of reform (to itsadvantage). In the evening his fiddle wailed out psalm-tunes tothe entire exclusion of its former carnal strains.It must be admitted, however, that Jeff's grace was like the earlydew. On the third evening, "Ole Dan Tucker" slipped in among thehymns, and these were played in a time scarcely befitting theircharacter. Then came a bit of news that awakened a whollydifferent train of thought and desire. A colored boy, moreventurous than himself, was said to have picked up some "Linkum"money on the battlefield. This information shed on the wild woodedtract where the war trumpet had raged the most fiercely a lightmore golden than that of the moon then at its full; and Jeffresolved that with the coming night he also would explore a regionwhich, nevertheless, had nameless terrors for him."Ef dere's spooks anywhere dey's dereaway," he muttered over hishoe; "but den, ki! dey woan 'fere wid dis yer niggah. What habI'se got ter do wid de wah and de fighten an de jabbin'? De spookscyant lay nufnn ter me eben ef ole marse an' de res' am a-fightenter keep dere slabes, as folks say."Having thus satisfied himself that the manes of the dead thousandscould have no controversy with him, Jeff mustered sufficientresolution to visit the field that night. He took no one into hisconfidence, fearing if he discovered treasures of any kind hecould not be left in undisturbed possession. During the day therudiments of imagination which made him a musician had beenconjuring up the possible results of his expedition."De ting fer dis cullud pusson ter do is ter p'ramberlate ter deLinkum lines. Ki! I doan wan' what drap outen our sogers' pockets.I kin git Virginny leaf widouten runnin' 'mong de spooks arter it.De place fer a big fine is whar de brush is tick and de Linkum mencrawl away so dey woan be tromp on. Who knows but I kin fine aplace whar a ginral hide hisself? Ob cose if he hab a lot of golehe'd stick it in de bush or kiver it right smart, so dat odersmoutn't get it foh he could helf hisself."Jeff thought he had reasoned himself into such a valorous statethat he could walk across the deserted battlefield withnonchalance; but as he entered on a deeply shadowed dirt-road longsince disused to any extent, he found strange creeping sensationsrunning up and down his back. The moonlight filtered through theleaves with fantastic effects. A young silver poplar lookedghastly in the distance; and now and then a tree out off by a shotlooked almost human in its mutilation.He had not gone very far before he saw what appeared to be thebody of a man lying across the road. With a sudden chill of bloodhe stopped and stared at the object. Gradually it resolved itselfinto a low mound in the dim light. Approaching cautiously, hediscovered with a dull sense of horror that a soldier had beenburied where he had fallen, but covered so slightly that thetumulus scarcely more than outlined his form."Ob cose I knowed I d hab ter see dese tings foh I started. What Isuch a fool fer? De Feds nor de Yanks am' a-gwine ter bodder me ifI am' steppin' on 'em or ober 'em." And he went scrupulously onthe other side of the road.By and by, however, he came to a part of the wood-lane where menhad fallen by the score, and bodies had been covered in twos,threes, and dozens. His head felt as if his very wool werestraightening itself out, as he wound here and there and zigzaggedin all directions lest he should step on or over a grave. A breezestirred the forest as if all the thousands buried in its shadeshad heaved a long deep sigh. With chattering teeth Jeff stopped tolisten, then, reassured, continued to pick his tortuous way.Suddenly there was an ominous rustling in a thicket just behind.He broke into a headlong flight across and over everything, whenthe startled grunt of a hog revealed the prosaic nature of thisspook. Scarcely any other sound could have been more reassuring.The animal suggested bacon and hominy and hoe-cake, everythingexcept the ghostly. He berated himself angrily:"Ki! you niggah! dat ar hog got mo' co'age dan you. He know he habnuffin mo' ter do wid de spooks dan you hab. De run ain' far, andwhen I gits ober dat de spooks on de side dis way cyant crossarter me;" and he hastened toward the spot where he supposed theFederals had been massed the most heavily, crossing an open fieldand splashing through a shallow place in the river, that theirghost-ships might be reminded of running water.On the further slope were the same sad evidences of poormortality, graves here and there and often all too shallow, brokenmuskets, bullet perforated canteens and torn knapsacks--the debrisof a pitched battle. Many trees and shrubs were so lacerated thattheir foliage hung limp and wilting, while boughs with shrivelledleaves strewed the ground. Nature's wounds indicated that men hadfought here and been mutilated as ruthlessly.For a time nothing of value rewarded Jeff's search, and he beganto succumb to the grewsome associations of the place. At last heresolved to examine one more thicket that bordered an old rail-fence, and then make a long detour rather than go back by thegraveyard road over which he had come. Pushing the bushes aside,he peered among their shadows for some moments, and then utteredan exclamation of surprise and terror as he bounded backward.There was no mistake this time; he had seen the figure of a manwith a ray of moonlight filtering through the leaves on a ghastlybullet-hole in his temple. He sat with his back against the fence,and had not moved after receiving the shock. At his feet, droppedevidently from his nerveless hand, lay a metal box. All hadflashed almost instantaneously on Jeff's vision.For some moments he was in doubt whether to take to his heelshomeward or reconnoitre again. The soldier sat in such a lifelikeattitude that while Jeff knew the man must be dead, taking the boxseemed like robbing the living. Yes, worse than that, for, to thesuperstitious negro, the dead soldier appeared to be watching histreasure.Jeff's cupidity slowly mastered his fears. Cautiously approachingthe figure, he again pushed aside the screening boughs, and withchattering teeth and trembling limbs, looked upon the silentguardian of the treasure, half expecting the dead man to raise hishead, and warn him off with a threatening gesture. Since thefigure remained motionless, Jeff made a headlong plunge, clutchedthe box, then ran half a mile without thinking to look back.Not for his life would he cross the battlefield again; so it waslate when by wide circuit he approached the dwelling of hismistress. His panic had gradually subsided, and as he notedfamiliar objects, he felt that he was beyond the proper range ofthe unjust spirits of the dead.The soldier he had left sitting against the fence troubled him, itis true; and he was not quite sure that he was through with one sopalpably robbed. That he had not been followed appeared certain;that the question of future ownership of the treasure could besettled was a matter of superstitious belief. There was only oneway--he must hide the box in a secret nook, and if it remainedundisturbed for a reasonable length of time, he might hope for itsundisturbed enjoyment. Accordingly he stole into a dense copse andburied his booty at the foot of a persimmon-tree, then gained hishumble quarter and slept so late and soundly that he had to bedragged almost without the door the next morning before he shookoff his lethargy.Chapter II. Its InfluenceWith the exception of aptitude which enabled Jeff to catch and fixa tune in his mind with a fair degree of correctness, his mentalprocesses were slow. Moreover, whether he should ever have anytrouble with "spooks" or not, one thing was true of him, as ofmany others in all stations of life, he was haunted by the ghostof a conscience. This uneasy spirit suggested to him with annoyingiteration that his proceedings the night before had been of veryunusual and doubtful character. When at last fully awake, hesought to appease the accusing voice by unwonted diligence in allhis tasks, until the fat cook, a devout Baptist, took more thanone occasion to say, "You'se in a promisin' frame, Jeff. Ef I'seony shoah dat yer hole out long anuff ter get 'mersed, I'd habhopes on yer, but, law! yer'll be a-fiddlin' de debil's tunes 'fo'de week is out. I'se afeared dat dere must be an awful prov'dence,like a battle or harricane, onst a week, ter keep yer ser'ous;"and the old woman sniffed down at him with ill-concealed disdainfrom her superior spiritual height.Jeff was as serious as could have been wished all that day, forthere was much on his mind. Perplexing questions tinged withsupernatural terrors tormented him. Passing over those having amoral point, the most urgent one was, "S'pose dat ar soger misshim box an come arter it ternight. Ki! If I go ter see, I mont runright on ter de spook. I'se a-gwine ter gib 'im his chance, an'den take mine." So that evening Jeff fortified himself andincreased the cook's hope by a succession of psalm-tunes in whichthere was no lapse toward the "debil's" music.Next morning, after a long sleep, Jeff's nerves were stronger, andhe began to take a high hand with conscience."Dat ar soger has hab his chance," he reasoned. "Ef he want de boxhe mus' 'a' com arter it las' night. I'se done bin fa'r wid him,an' now ter-night, ef dat ar box ain' 'sturbed, I'se a-gwine tersee de 'scription an' heft on it. Toder night I was so 'fuscateddat I couldn't know nuffin straight."When all were sleeping, he stole to the persimmon-tree and waselated to find his treasure where he had slightly buried it. Thelittle box seemed heavy, and was wholly unlike anything he everseen before."Ob cose it's got money in it," Jeff reasoned. "Nuffin else 'ud bedone up to tight and strong. I'se woan open it jes' yet, feared demissus or de colored boys 'spec' someting. Ki! I isn't a-gwine terbe tied up, an' hab dat box whip out in me. I'll tink how I kinhide an' spen' de money kine of slowcution like." With this herestored the prize to its shallow excavation and covered it withleaves that no trace of fresh earth might be visible.Jeff's deportment now began to evince a new evolution in mentaland moral process. The influence of riches was quite as markedupon him as upon so many of his white brothers and sisters,proving their essential kinship. To-day he began to sniffdisdainfully at his menial tasks; and in the evening "Ole DanTucker" resounded from his fiddle with a rollicking abandon overwhich the cook groaned in despair, "Dat ar niggah's 'ligion dropoff ob 'im like a yaller pig from de bush. 'Ligion dat's skeertinter us hain't no 'count anyhow."During the next few days it was evident that Jeff was falling fromgrace rapidly. Never had he been so slow and careless in histasks. More than once the thought crossed his mind that he hadbetter take his box and "cut stick" for Washington, where hebelieved that wealth and his fiddle would give him prominence overhis race. For prudential and other reasons he was in no haste toopen the box, preferring rather to gloat over it and to think howhe could spend the money to the greatest advantage. He had beenpaying his court to a girl as black as himself on a neighboringplantation; but he now regarded that affair as preposterous."She ain' good nuff fer me no mo'," he reasoned. "I'se a-gwine tershine up ter dat yeller Suky dat's been a-holdin' her head so highober ter Marse Perkins's. I'se invited ter play ober dar ter-night, an' I'll make dat gal open her eye. Ki! she tinks no culledgemmen in dese parts fit ter hole a cannle when she braid her longstraight ha'r, but when she see de ribbin I kin git her ter tiedat ha'r up wid, an' de earrings I kin put in her ears, she larfon toder side ob her face. 'Fo' I go I'se a-gwine ter buy dat argole ring ob Sam Milkins down at de tavern. S'pose it does takeall I'se been sabin' up, I'se needn't sabe any mo'. Dat ar box gotnuff in it ter keep me like a lawd de rest ob my life. I'd open itter-night if I wasn't goin' ter Marse Perkins's."Jeff carried out his high-handed measures and appeared thatevening at "Marse Perkins's" with a ring of portentous sizesqueezed on the little finger of his left hand. It had somethingof the color of gold, and that is the best that can be said of it;but it had left its purchaser penniless. This fact sat lightly onJeff's mind, however, as he remembered the box at the foot of thepersimmon-tree; and he stalked into the detached kitchen, where adusky assemblage were to indulge in a shuffle, with the air of onewho intends that his superiority shall be recognized at once."Law sakes, Jeff!" said Mandy, his hitherto ebon flame, "yer comesin like a turkey gobbler. Doesn't yer know me?""Sartin I know yer, Mandy. You'se a good gal in you'se way, but,law! you'se had yer spell. A culled gemmen kin change his min'when he sees dat de 'finity's done gone.""Look here, Jeff Wobbles, does yer mean ter give me de sack?""I mean ter gib yer good-ebenin', Miss Mandy Munson. Yer kyant'spec' a gemmen to be degaged in de music an' a gal at de sametime," replied Jeff, with oppressive gravity."Mister Johnsing, I'se tank yer fo' yer arm," said Mandy to a mannear, with responsive dignity. "Yer wait on me here, an' yer kinwait on me home. I'se 'shamed on mysef dat I took up wid a loutdat kin do nuffin but fiddle; but I was kine ob sorry fer him, hesich a fool.""Go 'long," remarked Jeff, smiling mysteriously. 'Ef yer knowed,yer 'ud be wringin' yer han's wuss dan yer did at de las' 'tractedmeetin'. Ah, Miss Suky, dat you?" and Jeff for the first timedoffed his hat."Wat's in de win', Jeff, dat yer so scrumptious an' bumptious likedis ebenin'?" Suky asked a trifle scornfully."Wen de 'freshments parse 'roun', I'se 'steem it a oblergation terme ef yer'll let me bring yer de cake an' cider. I'se sumpin feryer. Gemmen an' ladies, took yer places," he added in a stentorianvoice; "I ax yer' sideration fer bein' late, cose I had 'portantbusiness; now,"Bow dar, scrape dar; Doan hang about de doah. Shine up ter depretty gals. An,' lead 'em on de floah"--his fiddle seconding his exhortation with such inciting strainsthat soon there was not a foot but was keeping time.Suky observed that the musician had eyes for her only, and thattoward all others he maintained his depressing superiority. Invain did Mandy lavish tokens of favor on "Mister Johnsing." Jeffdid not lose his sudden and unexpected indifference; while thegreat ring glistening on his finger added to the mystery. Therewere many whispered surmises; but gradually the conjecture that hehad "foun' a heap ob Linkum money" was regarded as the bestexplanation of the marked change in his bearing.Curiosity soon became more potent than Jeff's fiddle, and the"'freshments" were hurried up. So far from resenting this, Jeffput his violin under his arm and stalked across the improvisedball-room to Miss Suky, oblivious of the fact that she had asuitor on either side."Gemmen," he remarked with condescension, "dis lady am degaged terme durin' de 'freshments period,'" and he held out his arm in sucha way that the massive ring glittered almost under Suky's nose.The magnet drew. His arm was taken in spite of the protests of theenamored swains."Permit me de suggestation," continued Jeff, "dat ter a lady obyer 'finement, dis place am not fit ter breve in. Wha's mo', Idoan 'cline ter hab dese yer common niggahs a-whisperin' an' a-pintin' an' a-'jecturin' about us. Lemme yet yer a seat under delite ob de risin' moon. De dusk'll obscuate yer loveleness so I'sedar' tell all de news."Suky, mystified and expectant, but complacent over anotherconquest, made no objections to these whispered "suggestations,"and was led to a seat under the shadow of a tree. A chorus of notvery flattering remarks broke out, ceasing as suddenly when Jeffreturned for a portion of the cake and cider."Mister Wobbles, yer's prettin' on high de airs ter-night," Sukyremarked, with an interrogation point in her voice."Here's ter de health ob Mrs. Wobbles," he answered, lifting thecider to his lips."I'se no 'jections ter dat. Who is she ter be?" replied Suky, veryinnocently."It's not my 'tention ter go furder and far' wuss. Dis am a casewha de presen' company am not 'cepted.""No, not axcepted jes' yet, Mr. Wobbles, if yer'se 'dressin' yerremarks ter me. Yer is goin' on jes' a little too far.""P'raps a little far; but yer'll soon catch up wid me. Yer'se alady dat got a min' ob her own, I hope?""It's mine yet, anyhow.""An' yer kin keep as mum as a possum w'en de cawn is in de milk?""Dat 'pends.""Obcose it does. But I'll trus' yer; yer ain' de one ter bite yerown nose off. Does yer see dat ar ring, Suky? Law! how pretty datlook on yer degaged finger!""'Tain' dar yet.""Lemme put it dar. Ki! wouldn't dey look an' gape an' pint in daryonder w'en yer come a-sailin' in wid dat ring on?""Yes; dey tink me a big fool ter be captivated by a ring--brass,too, like anuff.""No, Suky, it's gole--yallow gole, di 'plexion ob yer own fairhan'. But, law! dis ain' nuffin ter what I'se 'll git yer. Yer'seshall hab rings an' dresses an' jules till yer 'stinguish de odergals like de sun put out de stars.""What yer foun', Jeff Wobbles?""I'se foun' what'll make yer a lady if yer hab sense. I'se gib yerde compliment ob s'lecting yer ter shar' my fine if yer'll lemmeput dis ring on yer degaged finger.""Yer doan say nuffin 'bout lub in dis yer 'rangement," Sukysimpered, sidling up to him."Oh, dat kind ob sent'ment 'll do fer common niggahs," Jeffexplained with dignity. "I'se hurd my missus talk 'bout 'liances'twixt people of quality. Ki! Suky, I'se in a'sition now ter makea 'liance wid yer. Yer ain' like dat low gal, Mandy. What MisterJohnsing ebber hab ter gib her but a lickin' some day? I'se donewid dat common class; I may fiddle fur 'em now an' den, jes' tersee dem sport deysefs, while I'se lookin' on kin' ob s'periurlike, yer know. But den, dey ain' our kin' ob folks. Yer'se gotqulities dat'll shine like de risin' moon dar." Then in a whisperhe added, "De Linkum sogers is off dar ter the east'erd. Onenight's trabel an' dey'd sen' us on ter Washin'on. Onst yer gitdar, an' hab all de jules an' dresses dat I gib yer, dar's not aculled gemmen dereaway but 'ud bow down ter yer."Here was a dazzling vista that Suky could not resist. Her ideas offreedom, like those of Jeff, were not very exalted. At thatperiod, slave property in the vicinity of the Union lines was fastmelting away; and scarcely a night elapsed but some one wasmissing, the more adventurous and intelligent escaping first, andothers following as opportunity and motive pointed the way. Theregion under consideration had not yet been occupied by theFederals, and there was still no slight risk involved in flight.Suky did not realize the magnitude of the project. She was not thefirst of her sex to be persuaded by a cavalier and promised goldto take a leap into the dark.As a result of Jeff's representations the "'liance" was made thereand then, secrecy promised, and an escape to Washington agreedupon as soon as circumstances permitted--Suky's mind, I regret tosay, dwelling more on "gemmen bowing down" to her than on thedevotion of the allied suitor.No lady of rank in Timbuctoo could have sailed into the kitchenball-room with greater state than Suky now after the compact hadbeen made, Jeff supporting her on his arm with the conscious airof one who has taken the prize from all competitors. With theassurance of a potentate he ensconced himself in the orchestracorner and called the dancers to their feet.But the spirit of mutiny was present. Eager eyes noted that thering on his bow-hand was gone. Then it was seen glistening onSuky's hand as she ostentatiously fanned herself. The clamor brokeout, "Mister Johnsing," incited by Mandy and the two swainsbetween whom Suky had been sandwiched, leading the revolt againstJeff's arrogance and success.There were many, however, who had no personal wrongs to right, andwho did not relish being made a cat's-paw by the disaffected.These were bent on the natural progression and conclusion of thedance. In consequence of the wordy uproar the master of thepremises appeared and cleared them all out, sending his ownservants to their quarters.Jeff nearly came to grief that night, for a party of themalcontents followed him on his homeward walk. Suspecting theirpurpose, he dodged behind some shrubbery, heard their threats tobreak his head and smash his fiddle, and then went back to a trystwith Suky.That sagacious damsel had been meditating on the proposedalliance. Even in her rather sophisticated mind she had regarded asemblance of love as essential; but since Jeff had put everythingon such superior grounds, she felt that she should prove herselffit for new and exalted conditions of life by seeing to it that hemade good all his remarkable promises. She remembered that he hadnot yet opened the box of money, and became a little sceptical asto its contents. Somebody might have watched Jeff, and havecarried it off.True, she had the ring, but that was not the price of her hand.Nothing less than had been promised would answer now; and when shestole out to meet Jeff she told him so. Under the witchingmoonlight he began to manifest tendencies to sentiment andtenderness. Her response was prompt: "Go 'long! what dese commonniggah ways got ter do wid a 'liance? Yer show me de gole in datbox--dat's de bargain. Den de 'liance hole me fas', an' I'll helpyer spen' de money in Washin'on. We'll hab a weddin' scrumptiousas white folks. But, law sakes! Jeff Wobbles, 't ain' no kin' ob'liance till I see dat gole an' hab some ob it too!"Jeff had to succumb like many a higher-born suitor before him,with the added chagrin of remembering that he had first suggestedthe purely businesslike aspect of his motive."Berry well; meet me here ter-morrer night when I whistle like awhip-o'-will. But yer ain' so smart as yer tink yer are, Suky.Yer'se made it cl'ar ter me dat I'se got ter keep de han'lin' obdat gole or you'll be a-carryin' dis 'liance business too far! IfI gib yer gole, I expec' yer ter shine up an be 'greeable-like terme ebbery way yer know how. Dat's only fa'r, doggoned ef it ain'!"and Jeff spoke in a very aggrieved tone.Wily Suky chucked him under the chin, saying: "Show me de color obde gole an' de 'liance come out all right." Then she retired,believing that negotiations had proceeded far enough for thepresent.Jeff went home feeling that he had been forewarned and forearmed.Since her heart responded to a golden key only, he would keep thatkey and use it judiciously.During the early hours of the following night Jeff was very waryand soon discovered that he was watched. He coolly slipped thecollar from a savage dog, and soon there was a stampede from aneighboring grove. An hour after, when all had become quiet again,he took the dog and, armed with an axe, started out, fullyresolved on breaking the treasure-box which he had been hoarding.The late moon had risen, giving to Jeff a gnome-like aspect as hedug at the root of the persimmon-tree. The mysterious box soongleamed with a pale light in his hand, like the leaden casket thatcontained Portia's radiant face. Surely, when he struck the "opensesame" blow, that beauty which captivates young and old alikewould dazzle his eyes. With heart now devoid of all compunction,and exultant in anticipation, he struck the box, shaving off theend he held furthest from him. An "ancient fish-like smell" filledthe air; Jeff sank on the ground and stared at sardines and rancidoil dropping instead of golden dollars from his treasure-box. Theyscarcely touched the ground before the dog snapped them all up.The bewildered negro knew not what to think. Had fish been theoriginal contents of the box, or had the soldier's spooktransformed the gold into this horrid mess? One thing, however,was clear--he had lost, not only Suky, but prestige. The yellowgirl would scorn him, and tell of his preposterous promises. Mandyhad been offended beyond hope, and he would become the laughing-stock and byword of all the colored boys for miles around."Dar's nuffin lef fer me but ter put out fer freedom," hesoliloquized; "ki! I'se a-gwine ter git eben wid dat yallar galyet. I'll cut stick ter-morrer night and she'll tink I 'scondedalone, totin' de box wid me, and dat she was too sharp in dat'liance business."So it turned out; Jeff and his fiddle vanished, leaving nothing tosustain Suky under the gibes of her associates except the ring,which she eventually learned was as brazen as her own ambition.Jefi wandered into the service of a Union officer whose patiencehe tried even more than that of his tolerant Southern mistress;but when by the camp-fire he brought out his violin, all hisshortcomings were condoned.

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