Uncle Caesar: It’s two dollars, suh. It’s a long way from de hotel.
Porter: It’s within the city limits, and well within them. Don’t think that you have picked up a greenhorn Yankee. Do you see those hills over there in the East? Well, I was born on the other side, in North Carolina. You old fool nigger, can’t you tell people from other people when you see ’em?
Uncle Caesar (grins): Is you from de South, suh? Ah reckon it was dem shoes of yourn fooled me. Dey is somethin sharp on de toes fo a Southern genleman to wear.
Porter: Then the charge is fifty cents, I suppose?
Uncle Caesar: Boss, fifty cents is right; but Ah needs two dollars, suh; Ah’m bleeged to have two dollars. Ah ain’t demandin it now, suh; after Ah knows whah you’s from; Ah’m jes sayin dat Ah has to have two dollars tonight, and business is mighty po.
Porter: (reaches for his pocket) You confounded old rascal, you ought to be turned over to the police. But you know; you know; YOU KNOW!
Uncle Caesar: Yes, boss, Ah knows; Ah knows; AH KNOWS! (bowing and scraping, slides into the background)
Porter (returns to study of the atlas; reads): “In November, 1864, the Confederate General Hood advanced against Nashville, where he shut up a National force under General Thomas. The latter then sallied forth and defeated the Confederates in a terrible conflict.” That’s the history of it; but that wouldn’t satisfy Major Caswell. He’s a professional Southerner. A good phrase! I know the type. When he bangs the bar with his fist, the first gun at Fort Sumter re-echoes. When he fires the last one at Appomattox, I begin to hope for a chance to get away! (Major Caswell enters right, silently; he is the convict Purzon, made up as a Southern gentleman, with a string tie, a slouch hat and a Prince Albert; he stands in shadow, barely visible; behind him is the frail figure of a woman, still less visible). But he twists the wrist of a woman! The rat with the blabbing lip! (the Major turns upon the woman and enacts the role of twisting her wrist and taking some money from her by force; she moans feebly) But she’s too proud to make a sound! She’s a Southern lady—God bless her—and she hides her grief from the world! (the woman sinks to the ground, invisible in the darkness; the Major comes forward, holding the money in his hand; he counts it with exultation)
The Major: Fifty dollars! A real haul that time! I can live like a gentleman fo once. Step up, suh, say the word, suh, the drinks are on me. The South comes back to her own! The guns of Fort Sumter re-echo again! The Confederate General Hood drives the damn Yankees in rout befo him, and Nashville is free once mo, a place fit fo a gentleman to live in. What’ll you have, Colonel?
(Uncle Caesar has been crouching in the shadows, watching the scene. He now steals out with a butcher knife in his hand and leaps upon the Major, who turns and defends himself, trying to hold the Negro off. In the struggle the Major tears the button from Uncle Caesar’s coat; as the Negro stabs him, he falls, clutching the button in his hand. Uncle Caesar takes the money from him, and then steals off).