“Tooby shore!” said the Colonel, with a sinister screech that was intended to simulate laughter. “You took the words out ’n my mouth. I was in-about ready to say it when you upped an’ said it yourself. War gwine on over yander an’ you all up here on business. Crissy Jane,” remarked the colonel in a different tone, “come here an’ wipe my face an’ see ef I’m a-sweatin’. Ef I’m a-sweatin’, hit’s the fust time since Sadday before last.”
Mrs. Powers mopped her father’s face, and assured him that she felt symptoms of perspiration.
“Oh, yes!” continued the colonel. “Business here an’ war yander. I hear tell that you er after Israel Spurlock. Lord A’mighty above us! What er you after Israel for? He hain’t got no niggers for to fight for. All the fightin’ he can do is to fight for his ole mammy.”
Captain Moseley endeavored to explain to Colonel Watson why his duty made it imperatively necessary to carry Spurlock back to the conscript camp, but in the midst of it all the old man cried out:—
“Oh, I know who sent you!”
“Who?” the captain said.
“Nobody but Wesley Lovejoy!”
Captain Moseley made no response, but gazed into the fire. Chadwick, on the other hand, when Lovejoy’s name was mentioned, slapped himself on the leg, and straightened himself up with the air of a man who has made an interesting discovery.
“Come, now,” Colonel Watson insisted, “hain’t it so? Didn’t Wesley Lovejoy send you?”