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I saw that each stage-driver carried a letter in his left hand. "The mail is hevy, to-day," said the landlord. "Gin'rally they don't have more'n half a dozen letters 'tween 'em. To- day they're got one a piece! Bile my lights and liver!" "And the passengers?" "There ain't any, skacely, now-days," said the landlord, "and what few ther is very much prefer to walk, the roads is so rough."
"Jolly! that fellow must have felt good: I guess he wanted to run all around the country and tell about it. Where was this spring, and what was the man's name that cured him?" The other chimed in: "Yes, and how did he do it? That's what I'm after. And is he dead? 'cause I don't hear of no such cures now-days." Then was Flossy tremulous of heart.
"I reckon the reason is bein' 'round human folks, Cunnel. When a varmint loses his wildness, he loses his grit, 'n' I may say he's apt ter go down in health. Ruth says that Injuns could stand bein' burned with fyar 'n' not flinch. Thar hain't no white men now-days kin do hit. I've tried," he rolled back his sleeve and showed a long scar on his forearm. "I tried jest ter see, 'n' had ter quit.
"I used to git six dollars a month, when I was your age, an' rise at four o'clock in the mornin' an' work till bedtime. You boys now-days are a lazy good-fer-nothin' lot. What's yer name?" "Sidney Trove." "Don't want ye." "Well, mister," said the boy, who was much in need of money, "I'll saw your wood for anything you've a mind to give me." "I'll give ye fifty cents a day," said the old man.
Nobody won't come to de quarter and tote folks away to de swamp when you around." "Who did it?" asked Marcy. Morris laughed as he had not laughed before since Marcy went away. "Now listen at you," said he. "How you reckon a pore niggah know who done it? Everybody afraid of de niggahs now-days; everybody 'cepting de Union folks. Going get 'nother oberseer, Marse Marcy?" "Yes.
For ten minutes he talked of the labor difficulties in the shops. "They better look out," he declared, and was so angry that his voice rose to something like a suppressed scream. "We're inventing new machines pretty fast now-days," he cried. "Pretty soon we'll do all the work by machines. Then what'll we do? We'll kick all the workers out and let 'em strike till they're sick, that's what we'll do.
The next place to his own was a barber shop, and as he hurried along the sidewalk, two young men came out and called to him. "Hey," they called, "do you believe in factory-made harness now-days, Joe Wainsworth? Hey, what do you say? Do you sell factory-made harness?" Joe did not answer, but stepping off the sidewalk, walked in the road.
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