I sho'ly did b'lieve de Good Laud wanted Massa John Lauzee, how I did go trompin' troo de grass aftah dat dog! Listen, Massa, aftah a-chasin' dat dog laster time, I sat down by Massa John's bed feelin' po'ful sad, an' I dreampt he was dead an' I watchin' in great tribilation of spirit. I done t'ink de Good Laud didn't hearken to de moans an' groans ob dis po' niggah. Seemed like I'd go plum 'stracted. My 'tention was 'tracted by a bright an' shinin' light an' outen it came a still, small voice: 'Reuben, yo' Massa will live, an' yo', not I, have saved his life.' Massa Hernando, dem's de berry words ob Doctor Hoff when de fever turned. Yes, Massa, I'se boun' ter b'leeve dat when de Good Laud has a message fo' us, He'll mebbe give it in a dream."
"Reuben!"
"Yes, Massa."
"A drink, please."
"Reuben!" there was a quaver in his voice now.
"Yes, Massa."
