Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 February 1887 — HOW HE FIXED ’EM. [ARTICLE]

HOW HE FIXED ’EM.

BY THOMAS COLQUITT.

“I’ll fix ’em!” Uncle Ned was lying in a fence corner of his watermelon “patch,” one warm, sultry August afternoon, watching for some unknown rogues who had been making raids recently upon his melons. He had been rewarded at last by a sight of two neighbor boys, who sprang over the fence, each carrying a large melon, and dived into the dark, shady woods outside. That was what Uncle Ned had just seen, and, as he rested his hands upon the low rail fence and gazed after the rogues, he said, in a most resolute tone: “I’ll fix ’em!” He did not know I was near him until I spoke: “How do you intend to fix ’em?” “Shoot ’em!” was the laconic reply. Uncle Ned, as he had been called for half a century, had been my grandfather’s playmate when they were boys together, and had been with him ever since. He was foreman on the farm, and the only’ overseer my grandfather would have for his negroes. He was allowed all the privileges he desired, and was practically a free man. He was at all times kind, respectful, and obliging, and never missed an opportunity, as the negroes said, “to put on airs and use big words.” These last, however, were pretty badly mangled in their passage through Uncle Ned’s thick lips. I had never supposed my old colored “Uncle” would dream of shooting any one, not even a watermelon thief. But those melons were his fortune. By selling them he was to obtain money for a grand time during the far-away Christmas holidays. “If you shoot those boys you will be hung,” I said. “Don’t care! I’ll shoot’em to-night, if they come back.” Seeing I could not dissuade him. I determined to warn the boys, and, if possible, turn the “joke” upon the old fellow. Uncle Ned went to his cabin, brought out his gun, an old musket, and proceeded to load, putting down a heavy charge of powder and a handful of large shot! “You mean business, Uncle Ned.” “I do dat, chile,” he said, grinning. “Dar’s jes’ twenty-fo’ shots in dar. I’ll fix ’em.”

He then sat his ancient gun away carefully and went out to the’stables to attend to the horses. While he was absent I extracted the shot, counting, to make sure I had them all out, poured down in their stead a load of ripe, juicy poke-berries, and replaced the gun. Then, when Uncle Ned went away to the field, I went to warn the boys. At dark that evening Uncle Ned was snugly ensconced in a fence corner, behind some bushes, commanding an easy range of the entire field. I was hidden a few comers away, but the old fellow did not know I was near him.

Directly three dark forms climbed over the fence on the opposite side of the field and soon gathered several large melons. I heard Uncle Ned moving uneasily, and then the click, click, of his gun-lock. The rogues, talking and laughing all the while, came quite near the ambush, sat down in a circle, very close together, aud commenced to eat their stolen fruit. A stick cracked in Uncle Ned’s comer, a long, rusty gun barrel was softly pushed through the screening bushes, and then—

Bang! One of the boys sprang to his feet and ran away like a deer; another fell over and made no sound, while the third began to groan piteously. Uncle Ned sprang out into the open field and stared wildly about him. I ran up to him, crying rapidly: “Oh, Uncle Ned! You’ve killed Tom and Bob Yates! See how bloody they are. You’ll be hung! Brother Will has gone for the Sheriff. You’ll be hung to-mor-row!” “Oh,w-w-what mus’ I doV’ cried the now thoroughly frightened old fellow, as he gazed on the berry-stained forms lying motionless at his feet. “Go to the woods and stay until I can arrange matters,” I replied. “I'll leave you something to eat every night in the fork of the old apple-tree below the barn. Go!” He went. The dead and wounded rogues recovered as soon as Uncle Ned was gone, and we enjoyed a hearty laugh over the adventure. “Those berries st ng like hornets,” said one. “This night’s work shall be a warning to me. Had the old fellow’s gun been charged as he thought and intended ” “You’re right,” cried the others together. “We will never steal another melon—for it is stealing.” We now decided to give Uncle Ned a lesson in return for the one he had given us. It was therefore agreed that one of the boys should go to the old apple-tree the following night wrapped in a white sheet, and represent the ghost of one of Uncle Ned’s victims, when the old fellow came for his food.

The following evening, directly after dark, as I was returning Yrom the bam, some one ran against me at full speed, knocked me to the ground, tumbled over me, and then lay flat on his face groaning terribly. “Why, Uncle Ned, they’ll catch and hang you,” 1 cruelly reminded him. He raised himself slightly and began to recover his senses, when he exclaimed, pointing: “Ugh! See it—there it is. I killed him! Oh! 0—o—oh!” Uncle Ned attempted to rise to continue his flight as a ghostly object all robed in white approached us, but he fell back and lay so still that I began to fear he was scared to death. He had only fainted, however. We carried him to his cabin, where he soon recovered. He was fairly wild with joy when he learned that he had not killed anybody after all, and was ever afterward very liberal with his melons.'