UTC
The Christian Slave
Harriet Beecher Stowe
Boston: Phillips, Sampson, 1855

SCENE VII.—The Road.

Enter HALEY, SAM and ANDY, mounted.

Haley.

  Your master, I s'pose, don't keep no dogs?


Sam.

  Heaps on 'em; that's Bruno— he's a roarer! and, besides that, 'bout every nigger of us keeps a pup of some natur' or uther.


Haley.

  Ho! But your master don't keep no dogs—I pretty much know he don't—for trackin' out niggers?


Sam.

  Our dogs all smells round considerable sharp. I 'spect the's the kind, though they ha' n't never had no practice. The's far dogs, though, at most anything, if you'd get 'em started. Here, Bruno! [Whistling.]


Haley.

  Bruno be ———-!


Sam.

  Lor, Mas'r Haley, don't see no use, cursin on 'em, nuther!


Haley. [Smothering his anger.]

  Take the straight road to the river. I know the way of all of 'em—they make tracks for the underground.


Sam.

  Sartin, dat's de idee. Mas'r Haley hits de things right in de middle. Now, der's two roads to de river—de dirt road and der pike—which mas'r mean to take?


Andy.

  Dat am fact.


Sam.

  'Cause, I'd rather be 'clined to 'magine that Lizy'd take de dirt road, bein' it's the least travelled.


Andy.

  I tink so too.


Haley. [Contemplatively.]

  If yet war n't both on yer such cussed liars, now!


Sam.

  Course, mas'r can do as he'd ruther; go de straight road, if mas'r think best—it's all one to us. Now, when I study 'pon it, I think de straight road de best, decidedly.


Haley.

  She would naturally go a lonesome way


Sam.

  Dar an't no sayin'; gals is pecular. They never does nothin' ye thinks they will; mose gen'lly the contrar. Gals is nat'lly made contrary; and so, if you thinks they've gone one road, it is sartin you'd better go t'other, and then you'll be sure to find 'em. Now, my private 'pinion is, Lizy took der dirt road; so I think we'd better take de straight one.


Haley.

  On the whole, I shall take the dirt road. How far is it?


Sam.

  A little piece ahead [winking to Andy]; but I've studded on de matter, and I'm quite clar we ought not to go dat ar way. I nebber been over it no way. It's despit lonesome, and we might lose our way—whar we'd come to, de Lord only knows.


Haley.

  Nevertheless, I shall go that way.


Sam.

  Now I think on't, I think I hearn 'em tell dat ar road was all fenced up and down by der creek, and that; an't it, Andy.


Andy.

  Dunno 'zackly. So I hearn tell.


Sam.

  Its despit rough and bad for Jerry's lame foot, mas'r.


Haley.

  Now, I jest give yer warning, I know yer; yer won't get me to turn off this yer road, with all yer fussin'—so you shet up!


Sam.

  Mas'r will go his own way!

[Exeunt.]