"De bug, - I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit somewhere bout de head by dat goole-bug."
"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel;" and here Jupiter handed me a note which ran thus:
"Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my buying for him in de town, and de debbils own lot of money I had to gib for em."
"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is your 'Massa Will' going to do with scythes and spades?"
de bug, massa? I'd rudder not go fer trubble dat bug - you mus git him for your own self." Hereupon Legrand arose, with a grave and stately air, and brought me the beetle from a glass case in which it was enclosed.
"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life."
"One, two, tree, four, fibe - I done pass fibe big limb, massa, pon dis side."
"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail - done up for sartain - done departed dis here life."
"Him rotten, massa, sure nuff," replied the negro in a few moments, "but not so berry rotten as mought be.
"I'm gwine, Massa Will - deed I is," replied the negro very promptly - "mos out to the eend now."
"All dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put de bug fru de hole - look out for him dare below!"
"De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at de eyes good, widout any trouble."