Nebber mine, I'm gwine to bile ye fust an' de longest--hear dat?--de
longest!" Then looking up at me, "I got him, Major--try dat do'. Spec'
it's open. Colonel ain't yer yit. Reckon some ob dem moonshiners is
keepin' him down town. 'Fo' I forgit it, dar's a letter for ye hangin'
to de mantelpiece."
The door and the letter were both open, the latter being half a sheet
of paper impaled by a pin, which alone saved it from the roaring fire
that Chad had just replenished.
I held it to the light and learned, to my disappointment, that business
of enormous importance to the C. & W. A. L. R. R. might preclude the
possibility of the colonel's leaving his office until late. If such
a calamity overtook him, would I forgive him and take possession of
his house and cellar and make myself as comfortable as I could with
my best friend away? This postscript followed:--
"Open the new Madeira; Chad has the key."
Chad wreaked his vengeance upon the absconding terrapin by plunging
him, with all his sins upon him, headlong into the boiling pot, and
half an hour later was engaged at a side table in removing, with the
help of an iron fork, the upper shell of the steaming vagabond, for
my special comfort and sustenance.
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