“Wal, Maje,” answered Zeb, without making other obeisance than the simple politeness of removing his hat; “what I’ve larnt aint much, tho’ enough to fetch me back to the Fort; where I didn’t intend to come, till I’d gone a bit o’ a jurney acrosst the purayras. I kim back hyur to hev a word wi’ yurself.”
“In welcome. What is it you have to say?”
“That ye’ll keep back this trial as long’s ye kin raisonably do so. I know thur’s a pressyur from the outside; but I know, too, that ye’ve got the power to resist it, an what’s more, Maje—yo’ve got the will.”
“I have. You speak quite truly about that, Mr Stump. And as to the power, I have that, too, in a certain sense. But, as you are aware, in our great republic, the military power must always be subservient to the civil—unless under martial-law, which God forbid should ever be required among us—even here in Texas. I can go so far as to hinder any open violation of the law; but I cannot go against the law itself.”
“T’ant the law I want ye to go agin. Nothin’ o’ the sort, Maje. Only them as air like to take it into thur own hands, an twist it abeout to squar it wi’ thur own purpisses. Thur’s them in this Settlement as ’ud do thet, ef they ain’t rustrained. One in espeecial ’ud like to do it; an I knows who thet one air—leestwise I hev a tolable clur guess o’ him.”
“Who?”
“Yur good to keep a seecret, Maje? I know ye air.”
“Mr Stump, what passes here is in confidence. You may speak your mind freely.”
“Then my mind air: thet the man who hez dud this murder ain’t Maurice the Mowstanger.”
“That’s my own belief. You know it already. Have you nothing more to communicate?”