We were sitting by the cheerful fire in his kitchen. The evening was stealing on. There was a squeaking among his poultry. We went out, and were in season to see the dusky forms of men in blue moving towards the camp-fires. Every turkey had disappeared.
"I notice that you have a fine flock of sheep yonder," I said.
"Yes, sir, seventy Southdowns. One of the best flocks in the Old
Dominion."
"I am afraid you will find some of them missing in the morning."
"I will get them into the barn," he said. "Here, you lazy niggers! Peter, John, Sam,—turn out and get up the sheep!"
He had twenty or more negroes. Those who were called started to get the sheep.
A half dozen soldiers unexpectedly appeared in the field.
"We will help you get up your sheep," they said.