Sunny. So we believe; and so mad are the folks around, if they catch the red-skin they'll lynch him sure.
Ratts. Lynch him! Darn his copper carcass, I've got a set of Irish deck-hands aboard that just loved that child; and after I tell them this, let them get a sight of the red-skin, I believe they would eat him, tomahawk and all. Poor little Paul!
Thibo. What was he worth?
Ratts. Well, near on five hundred dollars.
Pete. [Scandalized.] What, sar! You p'tend to be sorry for Paul, and prize him like dat. Five hundred dollars!—[To Thibodeaux.] Tousand dollars, Massa Thibodeaux.
Enter Scudder, L. U. E.
Scud. Gentlemen, the sale takes place at three. Good morning, Colonel. It's near that now, and there's still the sugar-houses to be inspected. Good day, Mr. Thibodeaux—shall we drive down that way? Mr. Lafouche, why, how do you do, sir? you're looking well.
Lafouche. Sorry I can't return the compliment.
Ratts. Salem's looking a kinder hollowed out.
Scud. What, Mr. Ratts, are you going to invest in swamps?