“Bring it here,” Croyden ordered.
Moses’ fingers closed around the butt, a bit timorously, and he carried it to his master.
“I’ll show you the action,” said Croyden. “Here, is the ejector,” throwing the chamber out, “it holds six shots, you see: but you never put a cartridge under the firing-pin, because, if anything strikes the trigger, it’s likely to be discharged.”
“Yass, seh!”
Croyden loaded it, closed the cylinder, and passed it over to Moses, who took it with a little more assurance. He was harkening back thirty years, and more.
“What do yo warn me to do, seh?” he asked.
“I want you to sit down, here, while I’m away, and if any one tries to get in this house, to-night, you’re to shoot him. I’m going over to Captain Carrington’s—I’ll be back by eleven o’clock. It isn’t likely you will be disturbed; if you are, one shot will frighten him off, even if you don’t hit him, and I’ll hear the shot, and come back at once. You understand?” 205
“Yass, seh!—I’m to shoot anyone what tries to get in.”
“Not exactly!” laughed Croyden. “You’re to shoot anyone who tries to break in. For Heaven’s sake! don’t shoot me, when I return, or any one else who comes legitimately. Be sure he is an intruder, then bang away.”
“Sut’n’y, seh! I onderstands. I’se dub’us bout hittin’, but I kin bang away right nuf. Does yo’ spose any one will try to git in, seh?”