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"I low they're makin' a regular hog-killin' of it," said Eph smartly. Hannibal descended from the fence. "Yes, you can show me my chamber," he said, and his tone was severe. What a white man did was not a matter for a black man to criticize. They went toward the open door of the tavern. Mr. Slosson's corn whisky had already wrought a marked transformation in the case of Slosson himself.
"I fancy it is for me!" said Edward Henry. "The premium mentioned is absurdly inadequate, and the ground-rent is quite improperly low." "That's just why I look on it as commercial from my point of view," said Edward Henry. "It isn't worth the paper it's written on," said Mr. Slosson. "Why?" "Because, seeing the unusual form of it, it ought to be stamped, and it isn't stamped." "Listen here, Mr.
Why, I'll tell you what then the lady, good looking as she is, knows enough to make west Tennessee mighty onhealthy for some of us. I say suppose it's a flash in the pan and you have to crowd the distance in between you and this part of the world, you can't tell me you'll have any use for her then." Slosson paused impressively. "And here's Mr. Ware feeling bad, feeling like hell," he resumed.
Slosson had become a sort of Greek chorus. He anticipated all the possible phases of drunkenness that awaited his companions. He went from silence to noisy mirth, when his unmeaning laughter rang through the house; he told long witless stories as he leaned against the bar; he became melancholy and described the loss of his wife five years before.
Scowling now, the captain's eyes blazed back their challenge as he thrust his right hand under his coat. "Fair play I don't know who you are, but I know what you want!" said Yancy, the light in his frank gray eyes deepening. Murrell laughed and took a forward step. At the same moment Slosson snatched up a heavy club from back of the bar and dealt Yancy a murderous blow.
"Don't you be scared, ma'am," said the tavernkeeper, who smelt strongly of whisky. "I wouldn't lift my hand ag'in no good looking female except in kindness." "How dare you stop my carriage?" cried Betty, with a very genuine anger which for the moment dominated all her other emotions. She struggled to her feet, but Slosson put out a heavy hand and thrust her back. "There now," he urged soothingly.
From melancholy he passed to sullenness and seemed ready to fasten a quarrel on Yancy, but the latter deftly evaded any such issue. "What you-all want is another drink," he said affably. "With all you been through you need a tonic, so shove along that extract of cornshucks and molasses!" "I'm a rip-staver," said Slosson thickly. "But I've knowed enough sorrow to kill a horse."
"But Slosson was telling me about two soldiers who got kantab in their rations a few years ago," insisted Green. "Was the quartermaster court-martialed?" asked Sergeant Overton. "Or was it the fault of the company cook?" "Nothing like it," replied Green. "Two soldiers were on outpost one morning, and they had just prepared their breakfast.
"You tried to kill my Uncle Bob at the tavern, you and Captain Murrell. I heard you, and I seen you drag him to the river!" cried Hannibal. Slosson gave a start of astonishment at this. "Why, ain't he hateful?" he exclaimed aghast. "See here, young feller, that's no kind of a way fo' you to talk to a man who has riz his ten children!" Again Bunker swore, while Jim told Slosson to make haste.
Slosson looked his incredulity, while the others grinned and clustered around Daylight encouragingly. "Son, I ain't given to preaching. This is the first time I ever come to the penitent form, and you put me there yourself hard. I've seen a few in my time, and I ain't fastidious so as you can notice it.
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