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'Boys, said Henry, still low and breathlesly, but all the more impressively, 'what is to become of honour and mercy if such as you must needs become ravening wolves at scent of booty? 'It was not booty, Sir; they said traitors were hid here, said Percy, sulkily. 'Tush! the old story! Ever the plea for rapine and bloodthirstiness.
"I use ter ride erlong wid Marse Tom ter co'te 'er," he said, "en de gent'men wuz a-troopin' ter see her in vayous attitudes. Dey buzzed roun' 'er de same ez bees, but she ain' had no eyes fer none 'cep'n Marse Tom." At that instant the door opened, and Rindy rushed in, breathlesly pursuing Eugenia. "Miss Chris is pow'ful riled," she announced, "an' Marse Tom is a-stampin' roun' same ez er bull.
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