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Updated: August 6, 2024
Ye oughter keep sober; an' ye know, Isham, ye oughter keep Hil'ry sober. I dun'no' why ye can't. I never could abide the nasty stuff it's enough ter turn a bullfrog's stomach. Whiskey is good ter sell not ter drink. Let them consarned idjits in the flat woods buy it, an' drink it. Whiskey is good ter sell not ter drink."
There was a guffaw at this modest assertion, but the disaffected miller's tones dominated the rude merriment. "Whenst a feller takes ter drink folks kin spell out a heap o' reasons but the true one an' that's 'kase he likes it. Hil'ry 'ain't never named that 'oman's name ter me, an' I hev knowed him ez well ez ennybody hyar.
"An' Lee-yander don't favor none o' ye," observed another of the undiscriminated, unimportant members of the group, who seemed to the groping scrutiny of Nehemiah to be only endowed with sufficient identity to do the rough work of the still, and to become liable to the Federal law. "Thar's Hil'ry he seen it right off.
A persuasion that it was somewhat unduly long-lived impressed others of the party. "It's plumb cur'us Hil'ry ain't never furgot her," observed one of them. "He hev never married at all. My wife says it's jes contrariousness. Ef Mal-viny hed been his wife an' died, he'd hev married agin 'fore the year war out.
He laid his hand upon another body, in the same uniform as the first one. This man groaned slightly. "Dis one's not daid yit," said Dick, excitedly; "he been hit ober de haid, his face all bloody. Oh, Mars' Hil'ry, dem raidahs you done tell me 'bout been heah. Mars' Blodgett done shot dat one by de riber on de waf, an' den hit dis one wid his musket, an' den dey done shoot Mars' Blodgett.
The las' time the revenuers got Hil'ry 'twar through bein' ez drunk ez a fraish-biled owl.
Ef ennybody tuk arter him he war convenient ter disappear down hyar with we-uns. So he went ter the mill." "An' I wisht I hed put him in the hopper an' ground him up," said the miller, in a blood-curdling tone, but with a look of plaintive anxiety in his eyes. "He hev made a heap o' trouble 'twixt Hil'ry an' me fust an' last. Whar's Hil'ry disappeared to, en-nyways?"
Would you begrudge her to me?" "I bequeath her to you." "Ah! you know I haven't the ghost of a chance! She's not for po' little Hil'ry. I never did like small women, anyhow!" "My boy! If ever you like this one she'll no more seem small than the open sea." "I suppose," mused Hilary, "that's what makes it all the harder to let go.
Talbot noticed these things rapidly, his mind working quickly. "Oh, Mars' Hil'ry wha-wha's de mattah? I kyarnt hol' dese hosses; dey'se sumfin wrong, sho'ly," broke in the groom, his teeth chattering with terror. "Quiet, man! don't make so much noise. This is the dead body of a man, a soldier; he has been shot too.
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