Roxy Hastings — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

68 ROXY HASTINGS. excuse, too, for your coming back. I will make out a list. You see we have a sick man here,” he said, pointing to Louis, who, much emaciated now, kept his bed the greater part of the time. Alfred made a memorandum, the leading articles of which showed that his sick friend’s wants were uppermost in his mind. Quinine, arrowroot, crackers, wine, lemons, figs, dates, tea, and coffee, and last, but not least, tobacco. He went with him then to the door, and when the keeper was summoned to let Luke out he said : ‘‘Cjian this man come back in an hour or two and bring me some medicine and other articles that he is going to purchase for me? He’ll pay you for your trouble.” ‘‘T reckon he will if he comes. I ain’t a-goin’ to wait on you, openin’ and shuttin’ and lettin’ you in and out for ‘nothin.’ He knows how he can. come in jest as he did afore, and then he’s got to be searched if he has anything that looks suspicious about him.” ‘All right.” | Luke was a free man and had a home of his own, such as it was, in a poor quarter of the town, where he lived with his wife only. He had purchased his freedom from his master on liberal terms many years before, paying for himself by installments, and receiving his deed of manu- mission, of course, only when the whole sum was paid. He went home now, where he had carefully concealed the package, even from his wife, and opened it in great excitement. After carefully removing half a dozen wrap- pers, some of paper and some of cloth, he came to the buck- skin bag, which again was carefully tied and sealed, and on the outside of which a letter was pinned. He put the letter in his pocket, then cut the string with trembling fingers and poured out the gold upon his bed, slowly and gradually, to keep. the sound from reaching even the ears of the prying Dinah. What a large, glittering pile it was, to be sure A hun- dred broad pieces, each like the one which he had received for himself. He tried to compute its value, but failed egregiously, for his arithmetical powers, like those of most of his race, were of an exceedingly limited order. “Talk about dat bein’ on’y two hundred dollars!” he said. ‘“‘I should say dere’s about a million—jess about! Doctor Packard has been sold. He didn’t know nuffin *bout 8 Gosh! but what awful rich fellers dem Yankees must be!” Although Luke would have considered a quarter of the © GComicbooks (elo) m