gin' fur de punkin-pie to come."

On nearing his eighth or ninth round, Burl was on the point of shouting
forward the accustomed greeting, when he saw that his little master had
vanished from the fence. At this, however, he was not surprised,
naturally supposing that the boy having grown weary with waiting so
long, and lonesome, had returned to the fort. Now the fact was, Burl
had gone to the field that morning before Captain Kenton had called at
the station with the intelligence of having seen fresh Indian traces in
the wood but a few miles from the place. This circumstance was therefore
unknown to him, else had the faithful fellow never lost sight of his
little master until he had seen him safe back home. So, without any
suspicion of danger, he went on singing at his work as before:

"Wher' now is our Hebrew childern?
Wher' now is our Hebrew childern?
Wher' now is our Hebrew childern?
Safe in de promis' lan'.
Dey went up frum de fiery furnace,
Dey went up frum de fiery furnace,
Dey went up frum de fiery furnace,
Safe to de promis' lan'.
By an' by we'll go an' see dem,
By an' by we'll go an' see dem,
By an' by we'll go an' see dem,
Safe in de promis' lan'."

Thus questioning, answering, promising, the song, or perhaps hymn it
might be called, went on through several stanzas, telling in dolorous
cadences how our good "ol' Danel went up frum de den uf lions;" how "our
good ol' 'Ligy went up on wheels uf fire;" how "our good ol' Samson went
up wid de gates uf Gaza;" how "our good ol' Noah went up frum de mount
uf Areat;" how "our good ol' Mary went up in robes uf whiteness," etc.,
all "safe to de promis' lan'," the comforting assurance over and over
repeated that "by an' by we'll go an' see dem, safe in de promis' lan'."
Long as it was, the song was much too short for Big Black Burl, as
indeed was every song that he sung. But being a "dab" at improvising
words, as well as music, he could easily spin out his melodies to any
length he pleased. So, on getting to the end of his hymn, ignoring the
fact, he went right on _ad libitum_ until he had sent up, in some
manner, scriptural or not, or from some locality, scriptural or not,
every good old Hebrew he could think of, safe to the promised land,
winding up thus with our good old Jonah:

"Wher' now is our good ol' Jonah?
Wher' now is our good ol' Jonah?
Wher' now is our good ol' Jonah?
Safe in de pro