Adventures of Col. Daniel Boone | Page 9

could get there. He said:
"Why, my boy, you are all out of breath. Did you come for your
interest?"
"No, sir," I says; "is there some for me?"
"Oh, yes, a half-yearly is in last night--over a hundred and fifty dollars.

Quite a fortune for you. You had better let me invest it along with your
six thousand, because if you take it you'll spend it."
"No, sir," I says, "I don't want to spend it. I don't want it at all-- nor the
six thousand, nuther. I want you to take it; I want to give it to you--the
six thousand and all."
He looked surprised. He couldn't seem to make it out. He says:
"Why, what can you mean, my boy?"
I says, "Don't you ask me no questions about it, please. You'll take it
--won't you?"
He says:
"Well, I'm puzzled. Is something the matter?"
"Please take it," says I, "and don't ask me nothing--then I won't have to
tell no lies."
He studied a while, and then he says:
"Oho-o! I think I see. You want to SELL all your property to me--not
give it. That's the correct idea."
Then he wrote something on a paper and read it over, and says:
"There; you see it says 'for a consideration.' That means I have bought
it of you and paid you for it. Here's a dollar for you. Now you sign it."
So I signed it, and left.
Miss Watson's nigger, Jim, had a hair-ball as big as your fist, which had
been took out of the fourth stomach of an ox, and he used to do magic
with it. He said there was a spirit inside of it, and it knowed everything.
So I went to him that night and told him pap was here again, for I found
his tracks in the snow. What I wanted to know was, what he was going
to do, and was he going to stay? Jim got out his hair-ball and said

something over it, and then he held it up and dropped it on the floor. It
fell pretty solid, and only rolled about an inch. Jim tried it again, and
then another time, and it acted just the same. Jim got down on his knees,
and put his ear against it and listened. But it warn't no use; he said it
wouldn't talk. He said sometimes it wouldn't talk without money. I told
him I had an old slick counterfeit quarter that warn't no good because
the brass showed through the silver a little, and it wouldn't pass nohow,
even if the brass didn't show, because it was so slick it felt greasy, and
so that would tell on it every time. (I reckoned I wouldn't say nothing
about the dollar I got from the judge.) I said it was pretty bad money,
but maybe the hair-ball would take it, because maybe it wouldn't know
the difference. Jim smelt it and bit it and rubbed it, and said he would
manage so the hair-ball would think it was good. He said he would split
open a raw Irish potato and stick the quarter in between and keep it
there all night, and next morning you couldn't see no brass, and it
wouldn't feel greasy no more, and so anybody in town would take it in
a minute, let alone a hair-ball. Well, I knowed a potato would do that
before, but I had forgot it.
Jim put the quarter under the hair-ball, and got down and listened again.
This time he said the hair-ball was all right. He said it would tell my
whole fortune if I wanted it to. I says, go on. So the hair-ball talked to
Jim, and Jim told it to me. He says:
"Yo' ole father doan' know yit what he's a-gwyne to do. Sometimes he
spec he'll go 'way, en den agin he spec he'll stay. De bes' way is to res'
easy en let de ole man take his own way. Dey's two angels hoverin'
roun' 'bout him. One uv 'em is white en shiny, en t'other one is black.
De white one gits him to go right a little while, den de black one sail in
en bust it all up. A body can't tell yit which one gwyne to fetch him at
de las'. But you is all right. You gwyne to have considable trouble in
yo' life, en considable joy. Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, en
sometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you's gwyne to git
well agin. Dey's two gals flyin' 'bout you in yo' life. One uv 'em's light
en t'other one is dark. One is rich en t'other is po'. You's gwyne to
marry de po' one fust en de