According to all symptoms the wind was at that moment setting terribly from the east. There was a sound of shuffling in the next room, and then Uncle Billy Powers came into the room, bearing in his stalwart arms a big rocking-chair containing a little old man whose body and limbs were shriveled and shrunken. Only his head, which seemed to be abnormally large, had escaped the ravages of whatever disease had seized him. His eyes were bright as a bird’s and his forehead was noble in its proportions.
“Gentlemen,” said Uncle Billy, “this here is Colonel Dick Watson. He used to be a big politicianer in his day an’ time. He’s my father-in-law.”
Uncle Billy seemed to be wonderfully proud of his connection with Colonel Watson. As for the Colonel, he eyed the strangers closely, apparently forgetting to respond to their salutation.
“I reckon you think it’s mighty fine, thish ’ere business er gwine ter war whar they hain’t nobody but peaceable folks,” exclaimed the colonel, his shrill, metallic voice being in curious contrast to his emaciated figure.
“Daddy!” said Mrs. Powers in a warning tone.
“Lord A’mighty! don’t pester me, Crissy Jane. Hain’t I done seed war before? When I was in the legislatur’ didn’t the boys rig up an’ march away to Mexico? But you know yourself,” the colonel went on, turning to Uncle Billy’s guests, “that this hain’t Mexico, an’ that they hain’t no war gwine on on this ’ere hill. You know that mighty well.”
“But there’s a tolerable big one going on over yonder,” said Captain Moseley, with a sweep of his hand to the westward.
“Now, you don’t say!” exclaimed Colonel Watson, sarcastically. “A big war going on an’ you all quiled up here before the fire, out ’n sight an’ out ’n hearin’! Well, well, well!”
“We are here on business,” said Captain Moseley, gently.