sa'nt'rin' 'long, studyin' 'bout de good time he 'd had wid de gals,
w'en, ez he wuz gwine by a fence co'nder, w'at sh'd he heah but sump'n
grunt. He stopped a minute ter listen, en he heared sump'n grunt ag'in.
Den he went ober ter de fence whar he heard de fuss, en dere, layin' in
de fence co'nder, on a pile er pine straw, he seed a fine, fat shote.

"Primus look' ha'd at de shote, en den sta'ted home. But somehow er
'nudder he could n' git away fum dat shote; w'en he tuk one step
for'ards wid one foot, de yuther foot 'peared ter take two steps
back'ards, en so he kep' nachly gittin' closeter en closeter ter de
shote. It was de beatin'es' thing! De shote des 'peared ter cha'm
Primus, en fus' thing you know Primus foun' hisse'f 'way up de road wid
de shote on his back.

"Ef Primus had 'a' knowed whose shote dat wuz, he 'd 'a' manage' ter git
pas' it somehow er 'nudder. Ez it happen', de shote b'long ter a cunjuh
man w'at libbed down in de free-nigger sett'ement. Co'se de cunjuh man
did n' hab ter wuk his roots but a little w'ile 'fo' he foun' out who
tuk his shote, en den de trouble begun. One mawnin', a day er so later,
en befo' he got de shote eat up, Primus did n' go ter wuk w'en de hawn
blow, en w'en de oberseah wen' ter look fer him, dey wa' no trace er
Primus ter be 'skivered nowhar. W'en he did n' come back in a day er so
mo', eve'ybody on de plantation 'lowed he had runned erway. His marster
a'vertise' him in de papers, en offered a big reward fer 'im. De
nigger-ketchers fotch out dey dogs, en track' 'im down ter de aidge er
de swamp, en den de scent gun out; en dat was de las' anybody seed er
Primus fer a long, long time.

"Two er th'ee weeks atter Primus disappear', his marster went ter town
one Sad'day. Mars Jim was stan'in' in front er Sandy Campbell's