First came the duel.
"So dat Ketchem man done got away? Doan' dat beat all! An' de colonel
a-mak-in' his will an' a-rubbin' up his old barkers. Can't have no fun
yer naaway; sumpin' allers spiles it. But yer oughter seen de colonel
dat day w'en he come home! Sakes alive, warn't he b'ilin'! Much as
Jedge Keerfoot could do to keep him from killin' dat Yankee on de
street."
Chad's long brown fingers fumbled among the green pea-shells, which
he heaped up on one side of the pan, and the conversation soon changed
to his master's "second in the field." I encouraged this divergence,
for I had been charged by Fitz to find out when these two recent
additions to the household in Bedford Place intended returning to their
native clime; that loyal friend of the colonel being somewhat disturbed
over their preparations for what promised to be a lengthy stay.
"'Fo' de Lawd, I doan' know! Tom Yancey nebber go s'long as de mint
patch hol' out, an' de colonel bought putty near a ba'el ob it dis
mawnin', an' anudder dimi-john from Mister Grocerman.
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