"Chad," said the colonel, "you know the big hill as you go up from the
marsh at home?"
"Yes, sah."
"Whose lan' is the coal on, mine or Jedge Barbour's?"
The old darky's face changed from an expression of the deepest anxiety
to an effort at the deepest thought. The change was so sudden that the
wrinkles got tangled up in the attempt, resulting in an expression of
vague uncertainty.
"You mean, Colonel, de hill whar we cotch de big coon?"
"Yes," said the colonel encouragingly, ignorant of the coon, but knowing
that there was only one hill.
"Well, Jedge Barbour's niggers always said dat de coon was dere coon,
'ca'se he was treed on dere lan', and we 'sputed dat it was our coon,
'ca'se it was on our lan'."
"Who got de coon?" asked Fitz.
"Oh, _we_ got the coon!" And Chad's eyes twinkled.
"That settles it. It's your land, Colonel," said Fitz, with one of his
sudden roars, in which everybody joined but Chad and the judge.
"But den, gemmen,"--Chad was a little uncomfortable at the
merriment,--"it was our coon for sho.
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