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Updated: May 12, 2025
The dispute invariably began by their asking: "Well, what are you 'uns down here a-fightin' we 'uns for?" As this was replied to the newt one followed: "Why are you'uns takin' our niggers away from we 'uns for?" Then came: "What do you 'uns put our niggers to fightin' we'uns for?" The windup always was: "Well, let me tell you, sir, you can never whip people that are fighting for liberty, sir."
Young Matt whispered, "Keep him a talkin', Dad;" and Mr. Howitt called, "He doesn't feel like playing to-night. Come back to- morrow." At this the spokesman dropped his bantering tone, "Look a here, ol' man. We'uns ain't got no time t' be a foolin' here. We know who that feller is, an' we're a goin' t' have him. He's been a sneakin' 'round this here neighborhood long enough.
Though the season and weather called to earnest effort, we see Sam Wiles and Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf, seated on a big log behind the barn. Turner: "I'll be wuth you in ary scrape you want to git up, but we uns must be keerful not to be ketched ag'in." Wiles: "Cordin' to my thinkin', each month we'uns war in de jug is wurth de price of a hoss." Turner: "That's yer game, is it?
"More'n we'uns 've had sence we left home, an' mouty good vittles, too. You Yanks sartinly live well, ef yo'uns don't do nothin' else." "Yes," said Shorty, with a glance at his mud-stained garments, "we're bound to live high and dress well, even if we don't lay up a cent." "You sartinly do have good cloze, too," said the Sergeant, surveying the stout blue uniforms with admiration.
"We kin tell more about that a few months later," returned Shorty. "It's never safe to count the game until the last hand's played. We hain't fairly begun to lead trumps yit. But what are you fellers fighting for, anyhow?" "We'uns foutin' for our liberty, and t' keep yo'uns from takin' our niggers away."
"Yes, indeed," said one of the first of them to come in, a pleasant-faced, shapely youth, with the soft down of his first beard scantily fringing his face, and to whom Nancy had sidled up in an unmistakable way. "We'uns 've bin a-layin' out in the woods for weeks, dodgin' ole Bragg's conscripters and a-waitin' for yo'uns.
"O, my! is that true?" she gurgled. "It's as true as that you are a remarkably fine lookin' woman," he said with unblushing countenance, as he began whittling off some of the tobacco to fill her pipe. "I was struck by your appearance as soon as I saw you. I always was very fond of the Southern ladies." "Sakes alive, air y'?" she asked; "then what air yo'uns down here foutin' we'uns fur?"
"I don't believe hit a mite," said the Sergeant, stooping down and picking up a piece of cedar, which made a formidable club. "We'uns is not a-gwine back with yo'uns nary a step. By rights, we'uns orter take yo'uns back with we'uns. But I'm willin' to call hit off, and let yo'uns go ef yo'uns 'll let we'uns go. Is hit a bargain?"
The shorter man leaped to the horses' heads and, seizing the reins, stopped their progress. The other stepped to the side of the phaeton, and said in a voice he tried to disguise: "Lady, we'uns do not mean to harm you, but you must cum wid us."
I'm goin' t' get Uncle Dan t' give you a job in th' shops, an' you can get out o' these hills an' be somebody like we'uns." The tone was unmistakably patronizing. The big mountaineer lifted his head proudly, and turned toward the speaker; but before he could reply, Sammy broke in eagerly, "Law! but that would sure be fine, wouldn't it, Matt?
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