Niggergirl

They were out to hunt a niggergirl, who, if she got across the thousand acres in safety, swam the river and crawled her way through the next quarter mile of thicket tangle on to the slope of Booby Mountain, would be free of molestation.

“Cut it out now,” the voice said. “You can quit the high-and-mighty act, you're not fooling your own flesh and blood. I've come to stay awhile. You might as well have your niggergirl fix me a bed.”

Then he looks back at the niggergirl, who is on her feet, clapping and shaking her tail. Look at me, he thinks. Look at me, Barbara. I want to be the last thing you ever see.