The old man sadly shook his head and passed it to the Swipe.
“I can’t jes zactly spress it kordin’ to book larnin’,” said the Swipe, “but it was sorter lak dis: We drawed de pole an’ axed for a squar race, but England fouled us on de fus’ turn an’ got us in a pocket on’ de half. We run into her, cut her down an’ won as we pleased.”
“Go head,” said the old man proudly. “Hal P’inter sho’ done lamed you sumpin’.”
This put the Swipe at the head. He scratched his chin, made eyes at the others and licked out his tongue.
“Who was Maj. Andre?” slowly spelled out the old man.
The Preacher thought he was one of the Disciples and Pompey, after much thought, said he was the man who went over Niagara in a barrel. The Swipe wasn’t sure, but after a while his face lit up with a broad smile and he said:
“Unc. Wash, wan’t he a British ringer dat got unkivered an’ ruled off at de West P’int meetin’? ’Twas a close heat an’ he lost by a neck.”
“De very man,” said the old man enthusiastically. “I tell you, sonny, if you keep up dis clip, you’ll break in all de colts in dis deestrick.” The Swipe smiled and sat up higher in the sulky. The old man studied his manuscript carefully and propounded:
“Describe de battle ob Shiloh.”
“Dat’s easy,” said the Preacher smiling. “It was a hard-fit fight in which Shiloh got killed.”