"Yes. Whis wus a frien' er mine; but Whis tuck aim at yoh. Few-words-comprehends-th'-whole!" The last sentence seemed to be all one Word. Griffith was still holding the great hands.
"Did you know I was with Northern troops, Lengthy? Did you know——?"
"Knowed hit wus you. Didn't keer who t'other fellers wus. He tuck aim. Seed whar he wus pintin'—Few words——"
"Are you a Union man, Lengthy?"
"Naw."
"Rebel, are you?" asked the General, sharply. There was a profound silence. The mountaineer did not even turn his head.
"I asked you if you were a rebel, God damn you! Can't you hear?" shouted the General thoroughly angry. "I'll let you know——"
"Are you on the Confederate side, Lengthy?" began Griffith. The mountaineer had not indicated in any way whatever that he had heard any previous question. "Naw," he said slowly and as if with a mental reservation. The General shot forth a perfect volley of oaths and questions and threats, but the immobility of the mountaineer remained wholly undisturbed. There was not even the shadow of a change of expression on the bronzed face.
"What the General wants to know—what I want to know is, Lengthy, which side are you on? Are you——"
"On youm."