"No," replied the policeman, reflectively. "No, I believe not.
Have you heard of any?"
"'Pears unter me dat I come mighty nigh gittin' some news bout
dat size, an' dat's w'at I'm a huntin' fer. Bekaze ef dey er
foun' a stray nigger layin' 'roun' loose, wid 'is bref gone, den
I wanter go home an' git my brekfus' an' put on some clean cloze,
an' 'liver myse'f up ter wunner deze yer jestesses er de peace,
an git a fa'r trial."
"Why, have you killed anybody?"
"Dat's w'at's I'm a 'quirin' inter now, but I wouldn't be
sustonished ef I ain't laid a nigger out some'rs on de subbubs.
Hit's done got so it's agin de law fer ter bus' loose an' kill a
nigger, ain't it, boss?"
"Well, I should say so. You don't mean to tell me that you have
killed a colored man, do you?"
"I speck I is, boss. I speck I done gone an' done it dis time,
sho.' Hit's bin sorter growin' on me, an' it come ter a head dis
mawnin', 'less my name ain't Remus, an' dat's w'at dey bin er
callin' me sence I wuz ole er 'nuff fer ter scratch myse'f wid my
lef' han'."
"Well, if you've killed a man, you'll have some fun, sure enough.
How was it?"
"Hit wuz dis way, boss: I wuz layin' in my bed dis mawnin' sorter
ruminatin' 'roun', when de fus news I know'd I year a fus' 'mong
de chickens, an' den my brissels riz.
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