Tom stood up in the doorway with a musket in his hand, “Put your foot on that doorstep and I’ll blow your brains out, you flat-nosed baboon!”
Tim paused and bowed with a smile.
“Ain’t the premises for sale, Mr. Camp?”
“Yes, but my family ain’t for inspection by niggers.”
“Just wanted to see the condition of the house, sir,” said Tim still smiling.
“Well, I’m livin’ here yet, and don’t you forget it,” answered Tom with quiet emphasis. Tim walked away laughing.
Tom stepped out of the house, and with his wooden leg marked a dead line around the house about ten feet from each corner. To the crowd that stood near he said in a clear ringing voice as he stood up in the doorway.
