r for a babolitionist.
You-uns want look out, Marse Marcy. Dat man mean mischief, suah's you
born."

"Don't be uneasy," replied Marcy. "If Mr. Goble thinks he is going to
catch us napping, he will find himself mistaken. I should like to see
him and his friends come to this school and try to carry out their
threats. There are plenty of Union boys among the students, parson."

"I'se suspicioned dat all along, sah, an' I'se mighty proud to hear you
say so; I is for a fac'. Dere's a few of 'em in de settle_ment_, but
I'se mighty jubus what will happen to 'em when Marse Gobble gets on de
war-paf, like he say he gwine do. He say he gwine lick de las' one."

"Then it is high time he was put under lock and key," said Marcy
indignantly. "I hope if he goes to Mr. Bowen's house the elder will turn
loose on him with that double-barreled shotgun of his."

"He say dat's what he allow to do; but I dunno," replied the old negro,
shaking his head and looking at the ground as if he felt that troublous
times were coming upon the earth. "It's gwine be mighty hot about yer,
an' I dunno what we niggahs gwine do. I wish dem babolitionists up Norf
shet dere moufs an' luf we-uns be. Dey gwine get us in a peck of
trouble."

"And such fellows as Bud Goble seem perfectly willing to help it on,"
said Marcy, whose indignation increased, the longer he dwelt upon the
details of the story Toby had told him. "For two cents I would muster a
squad and go down to his shanty and turn him out of doors. We'll do
something of the kind if the authorities do not put a curb on him."

[Illustration: MARCY REFUSES TO TAKE CHARGE OF OLD TOBY'S MONEY.]

"But dey _hire_ him to do all dis meanness, Marse Marcy," exclaimed the
negro. "He 'longs to dat committee."

"Don't you believe any such stuff. It is likely that he is in the pay of
that committee, and more shame to them, but he doesn't belong to it. Now
you run away, parson, because--"

"Hol' on, please, sah," interrupted the old man. "I want ax your device.
I got a little money--not much, but jes' a little" (here he pulled from
one of his capacious pockets a stocking filled half-way up the leg with
something that must have been heavy, judging by the care he took in
handling it),--"an' I'm that skeared of havin' it in de house dat I
can't sleep. Marse Gobble 'lows to steal bacon an' taters of me now as
often as he gets hungry, an' de fust ting I know he ax me for dis money;
den what I gwine do? Take keer o