“I’se gwi’ sleep under de baid ter-night, Marse George. Mr. Lance, he talk ’bout Injuns, an’ ef dey come, I ain’ gwi’ gin ’em no chance fer to meek a hole in dis heah nigger’s skin. An’ I got de dog wid me, an’ ef he start ter bark, I kin choke him, so dey ain’ never know dee is a dog heah.”