t, Dick; let him lay it up, and keep it laid up,'
Halloway laughed.

"'Dat 's a bad feller!' the negro insisted, uneasily, his voice kept in
an undertone. 'You got to watch him. I'se knowed him from a boy.'

"He added something else in a whisper which I did not catch.

"'All right; certainly not! Much obliged to you, Dick. I 'll keep my
eyes open. Goodnight.'

"'Good-night, gent'men'; and the negro fell back and began to talk with
the nearest of his companions effusively.

"'Who is that?' I asked, for the man had kept his hat over his eyes.

"'That 's Dick Winchester. You remember that old fellow 't used to
belong to old Mr. Eaton--lived down in the pines back o' me, on the
creek 't runs near my place. His wife died the year of the big snow.'

"It was not necessary for him to explain further. I remembered the negro
for whom Hal-loway had ridden through the storm that night.

"I asked Halloway somewhat irrelevantly, if he carried a pistol. He said
no, he had never done so.

"'Fact is, I 'm afraid of killin' somebody. And I don't want to do that,
I know. Never could bear to shoot my gun even durin' o' the war, though
I shot her 'bout as often as any of 'em, I reckon--always used to shut
my eyes right tight whenever I pulled the trigger. I reckon I was a
mighty pore soldier,' he laughed. I had heard that he was one of the
best in the army.

"'Besides, I always feel sort o' cowardly if I 've got a pistol on.
Looks like I was afraid of somebody--an' I ain't. I 've noticed if two
fellows have pistols on and git to fightin', mighty apt to one git hurt,
maybe both. Sort o' like two dogs growling--long as don't but one of 'em
growl it's all right. If don't but one have a pistol, t' other feller
always has the advantage and sort o' comes out top, while the man with
the pistol looks mean.'

"I remember how he looked in the dim moonlight as he drawled his quaint
philosophy.

"'I 'm a man o' peace, Mr. Johnny, and I learnt that from your mother--I
learnt a heap o' things from her,' he added, presently, after a little
period of reflection. 'She was the lady as used always to have a kind
word for me when I was a boy. That 's a heap to a boy. I used to think
she was an angel. You think it 's _you_ I'm a fightin' for in this
canvass? 'T ain't. I like you well enough, but I ain't never forgot
your mother, and her kindness to my old people durin' the war when I
was away. She give me this handkerchief for a weddin' present wh