horses, and
advised him as to the identity of the two men. He knew them
both--especially did he know the prominent citizen, who, on various
occasions, had invited him into the store and made him presents of pipe
and tobacco, and had even hinted to him that he could find a good job
for him when he grew tired of working for nothing. He had also given
him whiskey, which was a contraband article in the recruiting camp.

We walked along very friendly, for I was ashamed of myself for giving
way to my temper. When the negro thought I was in a sufficiently good
humor, he endeavored to ease his own curiosity on a matter that had
evidently been worrying him. "Marse Cally," he said, "who wuz dat
little chap we tuck home des now?"

"I don't know his name. Why do you ask?"

"Kaze he look so funny an' done so funny. He ain't look like no man ter
me."

"Why, of course not; he is little more than a boy; that's the reason I
made him come out of that house."

"He moughter been a boy," remarked Whistling Jim, after taking some
time to think the matter over. "He wuz right knock-kneed, an' when he
walked he walked des like de flo' wuz burnin' his foots."

I could only pretend to laugh, but I wondered at the negro's keep
observation. Seeing that I made no reply, he went on: "You know what I
think, Marse Cally? Dat uppity li'l chap is des ez much a man ez you is
a 'oman."

"Well, it may be so," I replied. "He is nothing to me."

Whistling Jim laughed one of his irritating laughs. "Dat's so, suh, but
I tuck notice dat you helt han's wid 'im a mighty long time."

This was intolerable, and I remarked with some severity that I proposed
to make it my special business to inform Harry Herndon how his negro
had neglected his duty. "Now, don't do dat, Marse Cally, please, suh!
You know mighty well dat Marse Harry can't keep his temper like you
does. I dunner when you been ez fractious ez you is ter-night."

"You are the cause of it," I declared, "you and no one else. First you
leave the stable-door unlocked, and then you say that this young fellow
is neither man nor boy."

"Did I say dat, Marse Cally?" exclaimed Whistling Jim, apparently
almost as much amazed as if I had drawn a pistol on him. He stood a
moment, as if trying to remember the circumstances under which the
remark had been made, but he shook his head sadly. "Ef I said dat,
Marse Cally, I must 'a' been dreamin'; I wuz mighty nigh fast asleep
when we started back des now, an'