“‘Lincoln County, Tennessee.’
“We all grunted our assent in chorus.
“‘He’s started home now,’ went on the Colonel, ‘and the way that mule can pace! Blue John is settin’ up in that saddle, holdin’ that jug under one arm and a-larrupin’ old Kit every yard. Scott, but ain’t he comin’!’
“‘He’s got to the swamp again, Doc,’ said the Major, after twenty minutes had passed. ‘He’ll get here directly.’
“‘Boys, he’s reached the big gate already. I hear him coming,’ said the Colonel, excitedly.
“Sure enough, we heard him. There was no mistake—Blue John was now coming down the hall.
“‘Open the door and let him in quick!’ said the Major, ‘By gum! but ain’t he and that old mule a pair of buds?’
“By this time we had all jumped out of bed and were hunting for tumblers and sugar. Blue John poked his head in the door.
“‘Boss,’ said Blue John.
“‘Come in, Blue John!’ cried the Major. ‘Fetch it right in. You’re a good old man. Colonel, lend me your spoon a minute.’