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Updated: June 19, 2025
"I don't make a practice of layin' down my gun for no man," he said proudly. "I'm ez good Union ez ary of you'uns dar be, an' I don't take no orders from ye. I could've killed ye both, ef I'd a wanted ter, afore ye ever seed me." Bolton's gun cracked, and the bullet buried itself in the thick, soft bark of the chestnut, just above Fortner's head, and threw dust and chips in his eyes.
"Better not let my sister hear you say that. Look at our crop coming up." "I didn't think you'uns would stick it out this winter," he said. "Most of the settlers stayed," she assured him. "Looks like the end of the free range," he said. "Cattle business is going to be different from now on."
"I'm a shootin' at that Yank thar by the Dead Line, and by if you'uns don't take him in I'll blow the whole head offn him." "What Yank? Where's any Yank?" "Why, thar right thar a-standin' agin the Ded Line." "Why, you Rebel fool, that's a chunk of wood. You can't get any furlough for shooting that!"
And they began gathering up their tools and garments. "All right, sah; all right, sah," grinned the negro. "You'uns jes clar out ob de way fer de amblance am er comin'. We dun got de right ob way dis trip, shor'." And so Frank Goodrich was established in the old log house, with the colored man to nurse him.
"'Well, said Ham, 'I guess I stay wid you a while longer. You won't write home 'bout me gittin' in de bush, will you'uns? "'No; if you wish us not to do so. "'O, for de Laud's sake! Marfa she d neber lib wid dis darky no mo' if she know what I do. You won't tell her, Massa Tom, will you? "'No, Ham; I will keep it a secret from her.
I ax pardon of all I hev hurt, an' forgive ary who has harmed me." Then his mind began to wander, and he thought himself in the church where he had found peace in his soul. "You'uns is right, Preacher Very, whisky makin', sellin' an' drinkin' is wrong; and I'll quit it for good frum dis night on. O dat sweet music, how good it makes me feel! 'Jesus, Lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly.
"Now yer speaking the truth, pardner," drawled Long Tom as he ejected from his mouth a generous quantity of tobacco juice. "My father fit in the Revolutionary War for liberty 'way down in ole Virginy, and I'll never submit to have my right to make home-distilled whisky taken away." "Always stick to that and you'uns will be a man, even if you'uns die with yer boots on."
The door on the inside was secured by a heavy bar which fell into a strong socket, the bar being fastened by a stout padlock. Zibe Turner spoke: "Miss LeMonde, dis cabin is to be yer hum for a while. My sister is to be comp'ny for ye, an' also yer guard. No harm is to cum to ye, if ye do what ye air told. I'm goin' to leave now, an' sis'll tend to yer wants. Good-night to bof uv you'uns."
"If you'uns is out on a scout," said a soldier, who had been aroused from his blanket, and pressed up to obtain a glance at the major, "whar's your hosses?" "I left them about a mile down the river. I have already been through your lines once to-night, and I might have gone through this time without your knowledge, if I had seen fit to do so."
"Have you'uns seed any stray shoats?" asked a passer: "I-uns's uses about here." "Critter" means an animal "cretur," a fellow-creature. "Longsweet-'nin'" and "short sweet'nin'" are respectively syrup and sugar. The practice of dipping by which is meant not baptism, but chewing snuff prevails to a like extent.
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