marster an’ ole missis ez long ez dey lived, an’ he said it wouldn’ be very long, he reckoned. Dat wuz de on’y time he voice broke—when he said dat; an’ I couldn’ speak a wud, my th’oat choked me so.

“When we come to de river, we tu’ned right up de bank, an’ arfter ridin’ ’bout a mile or sich a matter, we stopped whar dey wuz a little clearin’ wid elder bushes on one side an’ two big gum trees on de udder, an’ de sky wuz all red, an’ de water down to’ds whar de sun wuz comin’ wuz jes’ like de sky.

“Pres’n’y Mr. Gordon he come wid a ’hogany box ’bout so big ’fore ’im, an’ he got down, an’ Marse Chan tole me to tek all de hosses an’ go ’roun’ behine de bushes whar I tell you ’bout—off to one side; an’ ’fore I got ’roun’ dar, ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin an’ Mr. Hennin an’ Dr. Call come ridin’ from tudder way, to’ds ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s. When dey hed tied dey hosses, de udder gent’mens went up to whar Mr. Gordon wuz, an’ arfter some chattin’ Mr. Hennin step’ off ’bout fur ez ’cross dis road, or mebbe it mout be a little furder; an’ den I seed ’em th’oo de bushes loadin’ de pistils, an’ talk’ a little while; an’ den Marse Chan an’ ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin walked up wid de pistils in dey han’s, an’ Marse Chan he stood wid his face right to’ds de sun. I seen it shine on ’im jes’ ez it come up over de low groun’s, an’ he look’ like he did sometimes when he come out of chu’ch. I wuz so skeered I couldn’ say nuthin’. Ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin could shoot fust rate, an’ Marse Chan he never missed.

“Den I heahed Mr. Gordon say, ‘Gent’mens, is yo’ ready?’ and bofe of ’em sez, ‘Ready,’ jes’ so.

“An’ he sez, ‘Fire, one, two’—an’ ez he said ‘one,’ ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin raised he pistil an’ shot right at Marse Chan. De ball went th’oo his hat. I seen he hat sort o’ settle on he head ez de bullit hit it, an’ he jes’ tilted his pistil up in de a’r an’ shot—bang; an’ ez de pistil went bang, he sez to Cun’l Chahmb’lin, ‘I mek you a present to yo’ fam’ly, seh!’

“Well, dey had some talkin’ arfter dat. I didn’ git rightly what it wuz; but it ’peared like Cun’l Chahmb’lin he warn’t satisfied, an’ wanted to have anudder shot. De seconds dey wuz talkin’, an’ pres’n’y dey put de pistils up, an’ Marse Chan an’ Mr. Gordon shook han’s wid Mr. Hennin an’ Dr. Call, an’ come an’ got on dey hosses. An’ Cun’l Chahmb’lin he got on his horse an’ rode away wid de udder gent’mens, lookin’ like he did de day befo’ when all de people laughed at ’im.

“I b’lieve ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin wan’ to shoot Marse Chan, anyway!

“We come on home to breakfast, I totin’ de box wid de pistils befo’ me on the roan. Would you b’lieve me, seh, Marse Chan he nuvver said a wud ’bout it to ole marster or nobody. Ole missis didn’ fin’ out ’bout it for mo’n a month, an’ den, Lawd! how she did cry and kiss Marse Chan; an’ ole marster, aldo’ he never say much, he wuz jes’ ez please’ ez ole missis. He call’ me in de room an’ made me tole ’im all ’bout it, an’ when I got th’oo he gi’ me five dollars an’ a pyar of breeches.

“But ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin he nuvver did furgive Marse Chan, and Miss Anne she got mad too. Wimmens is mons’us onreasonable nohow. Dey’s jes’ like a catfish: you cann’ tek’ hole on ’em like udder folks, an’ when you gits ’em yo’ can n’ always hole ’em.

“What meks me think so? Heaps o’ things—dis: Marse Chan he done gi’ Miss Anne her pa jes’ ez good ez I gi’ Marse Chan’s dawg sweet ’taters, an’ she git mad wid ’im ez if he hed kill ’im ’stid o’ sen’in’ ’im back to her dat mawnin’ whole an’ soun’. B’lieve me! she wouldn’ even speak to ’im arfter dat!

“Don’ I ’member dat mawnin’!

“We wuz gwine fox-huntin’, ’bout six weeks or sich a matter arfter de duil, an’ we met Miss Anne ridin’ ’long wid anudder lady an’ two gent’mens whar wuz stayin’ at her house. Dyar wuz always some one or nudder dyar co’ting her. Well, dat mawnin’ we meet ’em right in de road. ’Twuz de fust time Marse Chan had see her sence de duil, an’ he raises he hat ez he pahss, an’ she looks right at ’im wid her head up in de yair like she nuvver see ’im befo’ in her born days; an’ when she comes by me, she sez, ‘Good-mawnin’, Sam!’ Gord! I nuvver see nuthin’ like de look dat come on Marse Chan’s face when she pahss ’im like dat. He gi’ de sorrel a pull dat fotch ’im back settin’ down in de san’ on he hanches. He ve’y lips wuz white. I tried to keep up wid ’im, but ’twarn’ no use. He sont me back home pres’n’y, an’ he rid on. I sez to myself, ‘Cun’l Chahmb’lin, don’ yo’ meet Marse Chan dis mawnin’. He ain’ bin lookin’ ’roun’ de ole school-house, whar he an’ Miss Anne use’ to go to school to ole Mr. Hall together, fur nuffin’. He won’ stan’ no prodjickin’ to-day.’

“He nuvver come home dat night tell ’way late, an’ ef he’d been fox-huntin’ it mus’ ha’ been de ole red whar lives down in de greenscum mashes he’d been chasin’. De way de sorrel wuz gormed up wid sweat an’ mire sut’n’y did hu’t me. He walked up to de stable wid he head down all de way, an’ I’se seen ’im go eighty miles of a winter day, an’ prance into de stable at night ez fresh ez ef he hed jes’ cantered over to ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin’s to supper. I nuvver seen a hoss beat so sence I knowed de fetlock from de fo’lock, an’ bad ez he wuz he wan’ ez bad ez Marse Chan.

“Whew! he didn’ git over dat thing, seh—he nuvver did git over it.

“De war come on jes’ den, an’ Marse Chan wuz elected cap’n; but he wouldn’ tek it. He said Firginia hadn’ seceded, an’ he wuz gwine stan’ by her. Den dey ’lected Mr. Gordon cap’n.

“I sut’n’y did wan’ Marse Chan to tek de place, cuz I knowed he wuz gwine tek me wid ’im. He wan’ gwine widout Sam. An’ beside, he look so po’ an’ thin, I thought he wuz gwine die.

“Of co’se ole missis she heard ’bout it, an’ she met Miss Anne in de road, an’ cut her jes’ like Miss Anne cut Marse Chan.

“Ole missis, she wuz proud ez anybody! So we wuz mo’ strangers dan ef we hadn’ live’ in a hunderd miles of each udder. An’ Marse Chan he wuz gittin’ thinner an’ thinner, an’ Firginia she come out, an’ den Marse Chan he went to Richmond an’ listed, an’ come back an’ sey he wuz a private, an’ he didn’ know whe’r he could tek me or not. He writ to Mr. Gordon, hows’ever, and ’twuz decided that when he went I wuz to go ’long an’ wait on him, an’ de cap’n too. I didn’ min’ dat, yo’ know, long ez I could go wid Marse Chan, an’ I like’ Mr. Gordon, anyways.

“Well, one night Marse Chan come back from de offis wid a telegram dat say, ‘Come at once,’ so he wuz to start nex’ mawnin’. He uniform wuz all ready, gray wid yaller trimmin’s, an’ mine wuz ready too, an’ he had ole marster’s sword, whar de State gi’ ’im in de Mexikin war; an’ he trunks wuz all packed wid ev’rything in ’em, an’ my chist wuz packed too, an’ Jim Rasher he druv ’em over to de depo’ in de waggin, an’ we wuz to start nex’ mawnin’ ’bout light. Dis wuz ’bout de las’ o’ spring, you know. Dat night ole missis made Marse Chan dress up in he uniform, an’ he sut’n’y did look splendid wid he long mustache an’ he wavin’ hyar and he tall figger.

“Arfter