"He abused his position of trust," said Peter, gloomily; "I must say, his motives seem very obscure to me."
"Dat sho am a fine way to put hit," said Tump, admiringly.
"Why do you suppose he bought in the Tomwit tract and sold me the Dillihay place?"
Asked for an opinion, Tump began twiddling military medal and corrugated the skin on his inch-high brow.
"Now you puts it to me lak dat, Peter," he answered with importance, "I wonders ef dat gimlet-haided white man ain't put some stoppers in dat deed he guv you. He mout of."
Such remarks as that from Tump always annoyed Peter. Tump's intellectual method was to talk sense just long enough to gain his companion's ear, and then produce something absurd and quash the tentative interest.
Siner turned away from him and said, "Piffle."
Tump was defensive at once.
"'T ain't piffle, either! I's talkin' sense, nigger."
Peter shrugged, and walked a little way in silence, but the soldier's nonsense stuck in his brain and worried him. Finally he turned, rather irritably.