"When yer sees the Yankee school-marm er coming just call off the cussed niggers, twill I can plant hit."
Colonel Seymour drew from his pocket a dozen or more pennies as he caught sight of the school marm riding down the road in her dogcart.
"Here, ye varmints!" he cried, and he threw one piece of money at the time in the grass and the negroes scrambled for it like a flock of geese over scattered grains of corn.
Simultaneously with the stroke of the old-fashioned clock, came an explosion that recalled the Crater with all its horrors to the regulator.
Clarissa ran out of the kitchen screaming, "Murder! Fire! the Yankees is er comin. Great king, mars Jon, de ruf and de chimney on de offis is dun blowed clean erway. In de name of Gord, what wus dat, ole marsa? Grate Jerusalam! which er way did dat harrykin cum from? De road is fairly er workin wid yung niggers widdout arms or legs ergwine er bellering every which erway. Fo Gord, de last time I seed dat er Yankee wumun she wus er flying fru de medder lak er white herrun!"
After the smoke of battle had cleared the regulator sneaked up to the Colonel with a broad grin upon his face with the enquiry, "Did I do that er job kerrect, mister?"
I'm ergwine back lak dat prodigle man dat et up dem corn cobs way out yander to de tuther eend o' de yearth.