Though a less exacting master than the Major, he had not
the same childlike trust in the slaves he owned.
"Shall you not turn back?" he asked, surprised.
"Champe's there," responded the Major, "so I came on for the particulars. A
night in town isn't to my liking, but I can't sleep a wink until I hear a
thing or two. You're going out, eh?"
"I'm riding home," said the Governor, "it makes me uneasy to be away from
Uplands." He paused, hesitated an instant, and then broke out suddenly.
"Good God, Major, what does it mean?"
The Major shook his head until his long white hair fell across his eyes.
"Mean, sir?" he thundered in a rage. "It means, I reckon, that those damned
friends of yours have a mind to murder you. It means that after all your
speech-making and your brotherly love, they're putting pitchforks into the
hands of savages and loosening them upon you. Oh, you needn't mind Congo,
Governor. Congo's heart's as white as mine."
"Dat's so, Ole Marster," put in Congo, approvingly.
The Governor was trembling as he leaned down from his saddle.
"We know nothing as yet, sir," he began, "there must be some--"
"Oh, go on, go on," cried the Major, striking the carriage window. "Keep up
your speech-making and your handshaking until your wife gets murdered in
her bed--but, by God, sir, if Virginia doesn't secede after this, I'll
secede without her!"
The coach moved on and the Governor, touching his horse with the whip, rode
rapidly down the hill.
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