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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Strange," mused the Eurasian, half aloud, "that their collective answer is always given as 'I. What obscure telescoping of egotisms can be the cause of that...." He dropped the mood of wonder at once. "Tell me," he said, looking deliberately at Leithgow: "Would the brain of Master Scientist Eliot Leithgow be more valuable in the position of the master brain than Cram's?"
"What the deuce ails you, Davy?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "Have you nightmare?" "Do you know a place called Clam Shell, down on the river bank, Nick?" "Why," he replied, "you must be thinking of Cram's Hell." "What's that?" I asked. "It's a house that used to belong to Cram, who was an overseer. The niggers hated him, and he was killed in bed by a big black nigger chief from Africa.
Tell us, since you are voluntarily in the confessional, tell us why you kept back that explanation of its dependence on the Precession of the Equinoxes, which, at Professor Cram's finishing examination, in your school-girl days, you so glibly recited before your admiring papa and mamma?
But they got me sent out here to be as far away as possible; and yes, there were three deserters from Cram's battery aboard the steamer, so I learned, and one of them, the man you call Higgins, who was betrayed to Lieutenant Blake by another deserter just as bad as him, was staking the other two, for he had money in plenty until after I had done with him.
"What the deuce ails you, Davy?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "Have you nightmare?" "Do you know a place called Clam Shell, down on the river bank, Nick?" "Why," he replied, "you must be thinking of Cram's Hell." "What's that?" I asked. "It's a house that used to belong to Cram, who was an overseer. The niggers hated him, and he was killed in bed by a big black nigger chief from Africa.
You the long villain I warn never to come nosing about our camp again, and you, the shorter, I'll trouble to come into camp forthwith. No, don't draw that pistol unless you want a dozen bullets through you. Half a troop is right here at my back. Your soldier name was Higgins and you're a deserter from Cram's battery, New Orleans."
The increased self-respect of army life fitted them to do the duties of civil life. It is not in nature that the jealousy of race should die out in this generation, but I trust they will not see the fulfilment of Corporal Simon Cram's prediction.
It is but justice to explain that this latter incident did not occur in "Posey County." At La Porte the roads improve for some distance, but once again I am benighted, and sleep under a wheat-shock. Traversing several miles of corduroy road, through huckleberry swamps, next morning, I reach Cram's Point for breakfast.
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