"I should have lost my very identity but for you, Big Abel," he observed
gratefully, as he glanced round at the property the negro had protected.
Big Abel leaned forward and stirred the ashes with a small stick.
"En I done fit fer 'em, suh," he replied. "I des tell you all de fittin'
ain' been over yonder on dat ar hill caze I'se done fit right yer in dis
yer fence conder, en I ain' fit de Yankees nurr. Lawd, Lawd, dese yer folks
es is been a-sniffin' roun' my pile all day, ain' de kinder folks I'se used
ter, caze my folks dey don' steal w'at don' b'long ter 'em, en dese yer
folks dey do. Ole Marster steal? Huh! he 'ouldn't even tech a chicken dat
'uz roos'in in his own yard. But dese yer sodgers!--Why, you cyarn tu'n yo'
eye a splinter off de vittles fo' dey's done got 'em. Dey poke dey han's
right spang in de fire en eat de ashes en all."
He went off grumbling to lie down at a little distance, and Dan sat
thoughtfully looking into the smouldering fire. Bland and Baker, having
heatedly discussed the details of the victory, had at last drifted into
silence; only Pinetop was awake--this he learned from the odour of the
corncob pipe which floated from a sheltered corner.
"Come over, Pinetop," called Dan, cordially, "and let's make ready for the
pursuit to-morrow. Why, to-morrow we may eat a civilized dinner in
Washington--think of that!"
He spoke excitedly, for he was still quivering from the tumult of his
thoughts.
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