“Thar haint been ary reb in our country fur more’n six months, dog-gone if thar has,” replied the man earnestly.
“Well, I can’t make any promises. The matter does not rest with me, but with the agent in New Orleans.”
“I suppose you pay cash on delivery?”
“Hardly. I don’t carry enough money to make it an object for prowling guerillas to rob me.”
“What’s Stratton got to show fur the cotton of his’n you have tooken down the river?”
“Due-bills, which will be cashed on sight.”
“But he’ll have to go to New Orleans to have ’em cashed, an’ me an’ my neighbors dassent go thar. We’ve been in the Confedrit army.”
“Is there no Union man up there whom you can trust to do business for you?”
“Thar aint one of that sort within forty mile of us.”
“Then you are in a bad way, and I don’t know how you will work it to get greenbacks for your cotton.”