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"
"
"
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 mouth too. I nebber did see sick a deuced
bug--he kick and he bite ebery 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 did n't like de look oh de bug
mouff, myself, no how, so I would n'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 do n't tink noffin about it--I nose it. What make him dream bout de
goole so much, if taint cause he bit by de goole-bug? Ise heerd bout dem
goole-bugs fore dis."
"
But how do you know he dreams about gold?"
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