The men exchanged glances, and it was evident that they were somewhat taken aback by the coolness and sang froid of their intended victim.
“Good evenin’,” said Sprowl, gruffly. “Yas, et’s a fine evenin’--a fine evenin’ to put geese-feathers onto rebel birds like ye! Hey, fellers?”
The others nodded, and one said: “Ye’re right, Hank.”
“What do you mean?” asked Miller, pretending that he did not grasp Sprowl’s meaning.
“I mean that we’re goin’ to give ye a coat of tar and feathers, ye blamed rebel!” snarled Sprowl. “That’s what I mean.”
Miller looked from one to another inquiringly, and then said: “Why should you want to do that?”
“I’ve jest told ye,” replied Sprowl, harshly. “Because ye’re a rebel, that’s why.”
“But I’m not a rebel.”
“I know better. Ye air a rebel. We’ve heerd how ye talk in favor of the rebels, and how ye hev said as how ye hope ther rebels will win in ther war ag’in ther king. Ye kain’t deny that ye hev talked in favor of ther rebels, an’ so now we’re goin’ to give ye a coat of tar and feathers an’ twenty-four hours to git out of this part of the country. We don’t want no rebel a teachin’ our children rebel sentiments.”
“I am sorry, my friends,” said Miller, calmly, “but I shall not quit teaching here unless told to do so by the men that hired me--and neither of you had anything to do with that. I will now go on home. Good evening,” and he walked quietly away.