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Updated: May 12, 2025
Don't hurt yer digestion ner spile yet purty looks longin' ter see yer pa an' ma an' dat cussed preacher." The monster dwarf here broke in, speaking in his deep voice: "Ma, dat's nuff now. Tell sis to git ready in a hurry, for we'uns have a long drive before us."
Or in a pouring rain: "'Pears like ole Mahster's got a durned fool idee we'uns is web-footed." Or in a driving snow storm: "Ef ole Mahster had to git rid o' this yere damn cold stuff, he might 'a dumped it on fellers what 's got more firewood handy." Vices? Well, such as the cowboy had, some one who loves him less will have to describe.
"We'uns 'd 'a' welted the life outen yo'uns at Stone River, if we'uns 'd had jest a few more men; ez hit wuz we'uns run yo'uns all over them 'ere old cotton-fields fur two days, tuk all yo'uns's cannon, an' more'n a million prisoners. Fust night I done thought we'uns 'd tuk the whole Yankee army.
One of the men at the rear of the column stopped long enough to ask us where we'uns were from, and I told him we had just come from the valley and had had some right smart fighting with Sheridan. I then hastily detailed the fight as I had read it in the Columbia paper. We soon came to Clayton, Georgia, and the court being in session, there was quite a crowd gathered about the court house.
"Where do we'uns come in?" asked Pythagoras, with one of his satanic grins. Miss Frayne saved the day. "You all come in with me," she said, "and have lunch. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and I understand there is warm ginger cake and huckleberry pie. Aren't you hungry?" "You bet," spoke up Pythagoras.
"Yo'uns' common soldiers 've better cloze than our officers. We'uns got hold o' some o' yo'uns' overcoats, and they wear like leather." "There's leather in 'em," said Shorty unblushingly. "I tell you, old Abe Lincoln's a very smart man. He saw that this war was costin' a heap of money, especially for clothes.
Corn-dodgers and milk-gourds dropped into the water as they impulsively jumped to their feet. "If yo'uns move we'uns 'll blow the lights outen yo'uns," shouted the leader of the rebels. "Hold up yer hands." It was a moment of the most intense anguish that either of them had ever known. Their thoughts were lightning-like in rapidity.
Even General Giltner, who had achieved considerable military reputation as commander of a division of Kentucky cavalry, seemed to be as slenderly furnished with logical ammunition as the balance, for as he halted by us he opened the conversation with the well-worn formula: "Well: what are you 'uns down here a-fighting we'uns for?"
If we'uns hain't killin' more o' yo'uns than yo'uns is a-killin' o' we'uns, we'uns air both wastin' a powerful lot o' powder an' lead and good shootin'. What d' yo'uns say to King's excuse for awhile?" "We're agreed," said Si promptly, stepping from behind the tree, and leaving his gun standing against it. "Hit's a go," responded the rebels, coming out disarmed.
It's an awful bluff, but we may work it this time. If they've got any grit we needn't worry no more about rations. They'll git us." Si snatched up a piece of rail, and they sprang up together, shouting: "Halt! Surrender! Don't move a hand or we'll blow your heads off." "All right, Yank. We surrender. Don't shoot. We'uns 've bin a-huntin' yo'uns to gin ourselves up. We'uns is tired o' the wah."
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