“I’m the squiah, sir, the squiah!” he replied, in his half negro dialect, and in exceedingly pompous tones.
“Well,” said I, “the people who made a squire of you must have been very short of material. But, sir squire, what is your business here?”
“To hold a trial over you; that thar’s my bis’nis here.”
I looked the ignoramus sternly in the face, as I rejoined:
“Well, sir, if you undertake to ‘hold a trial’ over Pulaski county citizens, we’ll make you smoke for it.”
My determined manner nonplussed him considerably, and turning to a companion, who seemed to be a conscripting officer, he said:
“I don’t want nuthin’ to do with these yer tarnal fellers, fur they know ’emselves, I golly!”
The conscripting officer, however, was not so easily turned aside, for failing to induce the “squire to hold a trial on us,” he sent a message to the deputy sheriff, and that high functionary came promptly to the rescue of the “Confederacy,” and arrested us. The squire having thus shifted this responsibility, regained his courage, and said to us, fiercely:
“Now, then, you’re arrested, and you’ve got ter tell us who you are, and whar from.”