I wish I could find Klutchem!"
While he spoke the office door opened, ushering in a stout man with
a red face, accompanied by an elderly white-haired gentleman, in a
butternut suit. The red-faced man was carrying a carpet bag--not the
Northern variety of wagon-curtain canvas, but the old-fashioned carpet
kind with leather handles and a mouth like a catfish. The snuff-colored
gentleman's only charge was a heavy hickory cane and an umbrella with
a waist like a market-woman's.
The red-faced man took off a wide straw hat and uncovered a head
slightly bald and reeking with perspiration.
"I'm lookin' fur Colonel Caarter, suh. Is he in?"
Fitz pointed to the door of the private office, and the elderly man
drew his cane and rapped twice. The colonel must have recognized the
signal as familiar, for the door opened with a spring, and the next
moment he had them both by the hands.
"Why, Jedge, this is indeed an honor--and Tom! Of co'se I knew you
would come, Tom; but the Jedge I did not expec' until I got yo'
telegram.
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