The secessionist was not so much impressed by the rather slender oath with which Seth clinched his speech, as by the sharp and earnest tone in which the whole was uttered,—Seth walking savagely up to him as he spoke. All the while, the alarm raised by the negro, and the dog, and the women, was sounding in the man's ears.
"They're after my turkeys! This is your trick, boy!" and he sprang upon Frank, lifting his gun as if to level him to the earth.
But Seth sprang after him, and seized the weapon before it descended. That green down-easter was cool as if he had been at a game of ball. He was an athletic youth, and he readily saw that Buckley, though a sturdy farmer, was no match for him. He pushed him back, shouting shrilly, at the same time, in the words of his favorite poet,—
"'Now, if thou strik'st him but one blow, I'll hurl thee from the brink as far as ever peasant pitched a bar!'"
This strange form of salutation astonished the rebel even more than the rough treatment he received at the hands of the vigorous and poetical Tucket. He saw that it was no time to stay and parley. He knew that his turkeys were going, and, muttering a parting malediction at Frank, he set off at a run to protect his poultry-yard.
"Now's our time," said Tucket, starting for the rendezvous, and striking into another quotation from his favorite minstrel, parodied for the occasion. "'Speed, Manly, speed! the cow's tough hide on fleeter foot was ne'er tied. Speed, Manly, speed! such cause of haste a drummer's sinews never braced. For turkey's doom and rebel deed are in thy course—speed, Manly, speed!'"
And speed they did, arriving at the place of meeting just as their companions came up with the poultry.
"Hello, Jack!" said Frank; "what's the matter with you?"
"He stumbled over a great piece of bark," Ellis answered for Winch.
"Did you, Jack?"