"Dar's somebody got ter do de stealin' in dis yer
worl'," he returned with rustic philosophy, "des es dar's somebody got ter
be w'ite folks en somebody got ter be nigger, caze de same pusson cyarn be
ner en ter dat's sho'. Dar ain' 'oom fer all de yerth ter strut roun' wid
dey han's in dey pockets en dey nose tu'nt up des caze dey's hones'. Lawd,
Lawd, ef I'd a-helt my han's back f'om pickin' en stealin' thoo dis yer
wah, whar 'ould you be now--I ax you dat?"
Catching a dried branch the flame shot up suddenly, and he sat relieved
against the glow, like a gigantic statue in black basalt.
"Well, all's fair in love and war," replied Dan, adjusting himself to
changed conditions. "If that wasn't as true as gospel, I should be dead
to-morrow from this fat bacon."
Big Abel started up.
"Lis'en ter dat ole hoot owl," he exclaimed excitedly, "he's a-settin'
right over dar on dat dead limb a-hootin' us plum in de mouf. Ain' dat like
'em, now? Is you ever seed sech airs as dey put on?"
He strode off into the darkness, and Dan, seized with a sudden homesickness
for the army, lay down beside his musket and fell asleep.
III
THE CABIN IN THE WOODS
At daybreak they took up the march again, Dan walking slowly, with his
musket striking the ground and his arm on Big Abel's shoulder. Where the
lane curved in the hollow, they came upon a white cottage, with a woman
milking a spotted cow in the barnyard. As she caught sight of them, she
waved wildly with her linsey apron, holding the milk pail carefully between
her feet as the spotted cow turned inquiringly.
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