Teague Poteet blew a long, thin cloud of home-made tobacco-smoke heavenward, leaned back heavily in his chair, and replied—
"Them air Restercrats kin go wher' they dang please; I'm a-gwine to stay right slambang in the United States."
There was a little pause, as if the man on horseback was considering the matter. Then the response came—
"Here's at you!"
"Can't you 'light?" asked Poteet.
"Not now," said the other; "I'll git on furder."
The man on horseback rode on across the mountain to his home. Another mountaineer, seeing the rockets and hearing the sound of the cannon, came down to Poteet's for information. He leaned over the brush- fence.
"What's up, Teague?"
"Gal-baby; reg'lar surbinder."
"Shoo! won't my ole 'oman holler! What's up down yan?"
"Them dad-blasted Restercrats a secedin' out'n the United States."