There was a grip like a vise on his shoulders. He turned and looked into the eyes of the old man and saw a tragic light there he had never seen before.
“Don't—for God's sake don't, Richard Travis, don't tempt me here, wait till I pray, till this devil goes out of my heart.”
And then in his terrible, steel-gripping way, he pulled Richard Travis, with a sudden jerk up against his own pulsing heart, as if the owner of The Gaffs had been a child, burying his great hardened fingers in the man's arm and fairly hissing in a whisper these words: “If he dies—Richard Travis—remember he died for you ... it tuck both yo' mares to kill him—no—no—don't start—don't turn pale ... you are safe ... I made Col'nel Troup give me his word ... he'd not expose you ... if Ben Butler won an' he saved his money. I knew what it 'ud mean ... that last heat ... that it 'ud kill him ... but I drove it to save you ... to keep Troup from exposin' yo' ... I've got his word. An' then I was sure ... as I live, I knew that God will touch you yet ... an' his touch will be as quickening fire to the dead honor that is in you ... Go! Richard Travis.... Go ... don't tempt me agin....”
He remembered later feeling very queer because he held so much gold in a bag, and it was his. Then he became painfully acute to the funny thing that happened, so funny that he had to sit down and laugh. It was on seeing Ben Butler rising slowly to his feet and shaking himself with that long powerful shake he had seen so often after wallowing. And the funniest thing!—two balls of cotton flew out of his ears, one hitting Flecker of Tennessee on the nose, the other Colonel Troup in the eye.
“By Gad, sah,” drawled Colonel Troup, “but now, I see. I thought he cudn't ah been made of flesh an' blood, sah, why damme he's made of cotton! An' you saved my money, old man, an' that damned rascal's name by that trick? Well, you kno' what I said, sah, a gentleman an' his word—but—but—” he turned quickly on the old man—excitedly, “ah, here—I'll give you the thousand dollars I hedged now ... if you'll give me back my promise—damned if I don't! Won't do it? No? Well, it's yo' privilege. I admire yo' charity, it's not of this world.”
And then he remembered seeing Bud sitting in the old cart driving Ben Butler home and telling everybody what they now knew: “Great hoss—G-r-e-a-t hoss!”
And the old horse shuffled and crow-hopped along, and Jack followed the Bishop carrying the gold.
And then such a funny thing: Ben Butler, frightened at a mule braying in his ear, ran away and threw Bud out!
When the old man heard it he sat down and laughed and cried—to his own disgust—“like a fool, sissy man,” he said, “a sissy man that ain't got no nerve. But, Lord, who'd done that but Ben Butler?”