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"Oo is it?" growled the shipowner. "Gennelman from the noospaper, sir." "Can't be bothered." "'E sez hit's most himportant, sir." "Wot is?" "I dunno, sir." "Well, show 'im in. I'll soon settle 'im." A quiet-mannered young man appeared. He ignored David's sharp, "Now, wot can I do for you?" and drew up a chair, on which he seated himself, uninvited.
The small negro stood grinning in the walk, his white eyeballs circling in their sockets. "Hit's Miss Chris, suh," he said at last. "Miss Chris, you rascal!" shouted the general. "Do you expect me to believe you've got Miss Chris in that pail? Open it, sir; open it!" Jake showed a shining row of ivory teeth and stood shaking the pail from side to side.
"Hit's a young un, Romey," said the boy, excitedly. "He's goin' to wait thar tell the old uns come back. Gimme that gun!" Catching up the Winchester, he slipped over the ledge; and Rome leaned suddenly forward, looking down at the river. A group of horsemen had ridden around the bend, and were coming at a walk down the other shore. Every man carried something across his saddle-bow.
"I reckon hit's all de same," he remarked cheerfully, "en I reckon we'd es well be gwine on home, Marse Dan." "I reckon we would," said Dan, and they pushed on in silence. That night they slept on the blood-stained floor of an old field hospital, and the next morning Pinetop parted from them and joined an engineer who had promised him a "lift" toward his mountains.
"May be that, Parson, but hit's easier to come up before the J.P. and pay off than to fight it through the circuit court." Siner pushed his way through the crowd. "How much do you want, Mr. Bobbs?" he asked briefly. The constable looked with reminiscent eyes at the tall, well-tailored negro.
"What is hit ye feels?" she urged, still softly, and the man came to his feet on the hearth. "Hit's like es ef I b'longs ter these people.
Sally waited, holding her breath, until the sound was repeated. "Who is hit?" she demanded in a low voice. "Hit's me Tam'rack!" came the reply, very low and cautious, and somewhat shamefaced. "What does ye want?" "Let me in, Sally," whined the kinsman, desperately. "They're atter me. They won't think to come hyar." Sally had not seen her cousin since Samson had forbidden his coming to the house.
"Fer yore own sakes hit's kinderly a pity ye couldn't git these irons offen me . . . they're right apt ter scar somebody up." They knew that to get out they must fight their way out and after all there were three of them. Flinging a heavy chair above his head, the quickest-witted of the trio hurled himself forward to the attack.
So why should they murder you and get hung for it? Hit's all 'tarnal foolishness, the notions some folks has!" "I thought so. Now, here! the public has been fed all sorts of nonsense about this moonshining business. I'd like to learn the plain truth about it, without bias one way or the other.
Y'u air as cur'us to him as one o' them bugs an' sich-like that he's always a-pickin' up in the woods. I hevn't said nuthin' to yer dad, fer fear o' his harmin' the furriner; but I hev seed that ye like him, an' hit's time now fer me to meddle. Ef he was in love with ye, do ye think he would marry ye? I hev been in the settle-mints. Folks thar air not as we citizens air.
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