Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [273]
“You’s actin’ like a fool!” he rasped. “Go git dat other bird fo’ yo’ next fight!”
“I ain’t no good at it, Uncle Mingo. Done got massa’s bird kilt!”
Mingo seemed incredulous. “Anytime birds fight one gwine lose! Ain’t you never seen massa lose? Now git on back out dere!” But neither his threats nor urgings were sufficient to move the boy, and finally he stopped trying. “Awright! I ain’t gwine back tellin’ massa we was scared to try winnin’ his money back!”
Angrily, Uncle Mingo turned back toward the crowd around the cockpit. Humiliated, George was surprised and grateful that he was hardly noticed by the other hackfighters, who had turned their attention to the next contest. Two more fights passed before the referee cried out again, “Tom Lea’s nigger!” In deeper shame, he heard Mingo bet ten dollars and get it covered before the old man pitted the second of the massa’s cull birds. It expertly killed its opponent in less than two minutes.
Uncle Mingo’s efforts to console George as they trudged back toward the plantation did little good. “We done made two dollars, so how come you actin’ like sump’n dyin?”
“Jes’ so shame o’ losin—an’ reckon massa won’t hardly want me losin’ no mo’ his birds—”
Mingo was so upset that his boy seemed determined to become a loser even before he got started that after George had moped around for three days, acting as if he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole, he spoke to Massa Lea about it. “Would you have a word with dat boy, Massa? Seem like he think it a disgrace to lose one fight!” When the massa next visited the gamefowl area, he accosted George. “What’s this I hear you can’t lose a fight?”
“Massa, jes’ feel terrible gittin’ yo’ bird kilt!”
“Well, I’ve got twenty more I want you to fight!”
“Yassuh.” He was halfhearted even with the massa’s reassurance.
But when George won with both birds in his next hackfight, he began to preen and crow like one of his winning roosters. After proudly collecting his bets, Uncle Mingo took him aside and whispered, “Git yo’ head big, you be losin’ again!”
“Jes’ lemme hol’ all dat money, Uncle Mingo!” he exclaimed, holding out his cupped hands.
As he stared at the pile of crumpled one-dollar bills and more in coins, Mingo said laughingly, “You take de money to massa. Do y’all both good!”
On their way home, George tried for what seemed the hundredth time to persuade Uncle Mingo to visit the slave row to meet his mammy, Miss Malizy, Sister Sarah, and Uncle Pompey. “Massa ain’t got but de six o’ us niggers, Uncle Mingo, look like de leas’ we could do is know one ’nother! Dey sho’ like to meet you. I talks ’bout you all de time when I’se dere, but dey feels like you don’t like ’em or sump’n!”
“You an’ dem both ought to know I can’t be ’gainst nobody I don’t even know!” said Mingo. “Les’ jes’ keep it like it been, den dey ain’t got to worry wid me, an’ me neither wid dem!” And once again, when they reached the plantation, Mingo took the path that would give him a wide berth around slave row.
Kizzy’s eyes fairly bugged when she saw the bills and coins in George’s palm. “Lawdy, boy, where you git all dat?” she demanded, calling Sister Sarah to take a look.
“How much is dat, anyhow?” asked Sarah.
“Don’t know, ma’am, but plenty mo’ where it come from.”
Sister Sarah towed George by his free hand to show the wind-fall to Uncle Pompey.
“Speck I better git me a rooster,” said the old man. “But looka here, boy, dat’s massa’s money!”
“He gimme half!” George explained proudly. “Fact, I got to go give him his share right now.”
Presenting himself at the kitchen, George showed Miss Malizy the money, then asked to see the massa.
When Massa Lea pocketed his nine dollars’ winnings, he laughed. “Hell, I think Mingo’s slippin’ you my best birds and me the culls!”
George was beside himself!
In the next hackfight, George won with two birds he had won with before, and Massa Lea grew so intrigued by George’s string of victories that he finally ignored his self-imposed objections