ghtly raised her eyes, which Levin took to mean assent, and he
said:

"Cannon's good enough for a body pore as me."

"You're a-goin' with Joe to-night, ain't you?"

"Yes'm, I b'leeves so."

"That's right, cousin. You'll git rich an' keep your chariot, yit.
Captain Van Dorn's gwyn to head the party. As Levin Cannon, ole Patty's
pore cousin, he'll look out fur you, son. Now have some o' my slappers,
an' jowl with eggs, an' the best coffee from Cannon's Ferry. Huldy, gal,
help yer Cousin Levin! He won't be your sweetheart ef you don't feed him
good."

The breakfast was brought in by a white man with a face scratched and
bitten, and one eye full of congested blood.

"Cy," Patty Cannon cried, "them slappers, I 'spect, you had hard work to
turn with that red eye Owen Daw give you."

"I'll brown both sides of him yit, when I git the griddle ready for
him," the man exclaimed, half snivelling.

"Before you raise gizzard enough for that, little Owen'll peck outen yer
eyes, Cy, like a crow; he's game enough to tackle the gallows. You may
git even with him thar, Cy."

The man turned his cowardly, serving countenance on Levin inquisitively,
and looked sullen and ashamed at Hulda, who observed:

"Cyrus, you are not fit for the rude boys around father's tavern, who
always impose on you. Please don't go there again."

"Where else kin he go?" inquired Patty Cannon, severely; "thar ain't no
church left nigh yer, sence Chapel Branch went to rot for want of
parsons' pay. Let him go to the tavern and learn to fight like a man,
an' if the boys licks him, let him kill some of 'em. Then Joe and the
Captain kin make somethin' of Cy James, an' people around yer'll respect
him. Why, Captain, honey, ain't ye hungry?"

This was addressed to a man with several bruises on his forehead, and an
enormous flaxen mustache, as soft in texture as a child's hair--a man
wearing delicate boots with high Flemish leggings, that curled over and
showed full women's hose of red, over which were buckled trousers of
buff corduroy, covering his thighs only, and fastened above his hips by
a belt of hide. His shirt was of blue figured stuff, and his loose,
unbuttoned coat was a kind of sailor's jacket of tarnished black velvet.
He hung a broad slouched hat of a yellowish-drab color, soft, like all
his clothing, upon a peg in the wall, and bowed to Hulda first with a
smile of welcome, to Madame Cannon cavalierly, and to Levin with a
graceful reserve that a