“I was interested in what you said about the Trick Track Tribe,” he said, falling into the seat opposite him.
“That’s because you’re a Southerner. Every loyal Southerner is.”
“Perhaps you’ll be glad to know that we—that the Tribe is being revived.”
“Revived? Well, well, well. But you know it was run out of business by the law, the whole shooting match of ’em—Klan, Tribe and all, by Congress.”
“No, I didn’t know that. Let’s see! There was something like that in our American history. Let’s see, the Force bill.”
“Sure thing. The damn Yankee general, Grant, done it. So I wouldn’t say much about it. I suppose it’s still illegal.”
“Oh, no, this has been reorganized and incorporated, although it’s got the same name and the same traditions. Here, let me show you some of our cards.”
The old Confederate soldier puzzled over the Latin motto and demanded why all those questions were being asked.
“We didn’t ask all them questions about religion and where a man was born. An’ what’s this card?”
It was a card the size of a playing card, headed “Do You Know?” and containing a list of “that’s”: