“Who is you, to be givin’ me dese yere awders? You ain’t no cap’n, is you?”
“I am the general commanding this brigade—that’s who.”
“Lawsy me!” quoth the darky, half to himself. “I sho’ must a’ run a long ways to git clear back to where the gene’ls stay!”
§ 360 He Knew Where to Find Paw
The gentleman from the city had rented a country-place in the White Mountains for the summer. Returning from a walk he noted, as he neared his front gate, signs that a mishap had occurred on the road. A load of hay had been overturned while in transit. It was piled in a great shock at the edge of the highway where its weight had caused it to slide from the wagon upon which it was being moved. The team were nibbling grass in the ditch. A fourteen year old boy, dripping with perspiration, and plainly very tired from his exertion, was forking the hay back on the wagon with tremendous energy.
“What happened?” asked the gentleman—a somewhat unnecessary question in view of the evidence.
“The wheels went down in a rut,” said the boy, “and this here jag of hay turned bottom-side up.”
“Well, you look all tired out,” said the sympathetic city man. “This seems to be a pretty big job for one of your years, too. Suppose you quit for awhile and go on up to my house yonder with me and have a bite to eat and a drink of cold lemonade or buttermilk.”
“I wouldn’t dast to do that,” said the boy. “Paw wouldn’t like it ef I didn’t get this here hay put back right away.”
“Oh, that’ll be all right. Nothing is going to happen to your hay while you’re gone or to your team, either. Come along with me; I’m sure your father won’t mind.”