“I didn’t shoot him.”
“No matter for that, stranger; he was shot by a Yank, and you’ve got to settle the account.”
Somers began to be of the same opinion himself. The grayback had evidently found the clothes, and suspected the purpose for which they were concealed. It was possible he had even more definite information than this; for he seemed to be prepared for precisely what had taken place.
“My friend——”
“I’m not your friend, stranger. You kin say anything you like, if yer don’t insult me; Joe Bagbone don’t take an insult from any live man.”
“Well, Joe Bagbone,” continued Somers, who was disposed to parley with the fellow to gain time, if nothing else, “if you shoot me, you will make the worst mistake you ever made in your life; and I can prove it to you in less than five minutes.”
“No, yer can’t, stranger. Don’t waste yer time no such way. If yer want ter say yer prayers, blaze away lively, ’cause three minutes aren’t long for a man to repent of all his sins.”
“I have a pass from General M——, which permits me to go in safety through these lines,” persisted Somers. “The sergeant above just examined it, and passed me through.”
“Don’t keer nothing about yer pass. I respects Jeff Davis just as much as the best man in Mississip’. If yer had a pass from him, you mought as well not have it as have it. Tom Myers was killed, and somebody’s gwine up for him.”
“But I have important business on the other side.”