As for darkey Sam, there was no doubting the impression Bud's eloquence made upon him. He was greatly terrified, for he remembered that his master had once denounced secession from the pulpit, and told the members of his congregation just what they might make up their minds to endure if it were consummated. Possibly Bud Goble recalled the circumstance, for he looked very hard at Sam while he was talking. As soon as the speech was brought to a close Sam sidled along toward the door, looking into the show-cases as he went, and presently found himself safe on the porch. Then he clapped his hat on his head and started for home post-haste.
"I reckon he's gwine tell the parson what you said," exclaimed one of Bud's friends. "Well, I do think Elder Bowen is one of the dangerousest men in the whole kentry, an' that he'd oughter be snatched outen that church of his'n before he has time to preach up any more of them pizen docterings. Warned him yet?"
"No; but I allow to do it soon's I get through with my business yer," replied Bud, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm, and sauntering up to the counter where Mr. Bailey stood. He affected a careless, confident swagger, which was by no means indicative of his feelings. Now that he could look closely at him he found that the storekeeper wasn't frightened enough, and that his speech had not accomplished half as much as he meant to have it. "You don't seem to be right peart this mornin'," he continued. "What's the matter of ye?"
"Nothing whatever," answered Mr. Bailey. "I'm as gay as a lark.
Something wanted?"
"I reckon," replied Bud. "I want the same things you gin that there nigger a minute ago—a dress an' a pair of shoes for my ole woman."
"Got any money to pay for 'em?"
"Not jest this minute, but I shall have plenty this evening, an' then mebbe I'll—"
"Can't help it," said Mr. Bailey, shaking his head.
"Wont you trust me?"
"No, I won't. I told you so the other day, and when I say a thing of that sort I mean it."