[Meshgen-bugs] e two Troopers debarked, some hundred

[Stavish B. <mi...@al...>]

' uz my ol' man," she said. "I sont him out to git some wood, so's I'd
have time to post you. Don't you mind him; he's lots mo' ba'k dan bite.
He's one o' dese little yaller men, an' you know dey kin be powahful
contra'y when dey sets dey hai'd to it. But jes' you treat him nice an'
don't let on, an' I'll be boun' you'll bring him erroun' in little er no
time." The Rev. Mr. Dokesbury received this advice with some misgiving.
Albeit he had assumed his pleasantest manner when, after his return to
the living-room, the little "yaller" man came through the door with his
bundle of wood. He responded cordially to Aunt Caroline's, "Dis is my
husband, Brothah Dokesbury," and heartily shook his host's reluctant
hand. "I hope I find you well, Brother Gray," he said. "Moder't, jes'
moder't," was the answer. "Come to suppah now, bofe o' you," said the
old lady, and they all sat down to the evening meal of crisp bacon,
well-fried potatoes, egg-pone, and coffee. The young man did his best to
be agreeable, but it was rather discouraging to receive only gruff
monosyllabic rejoinders to his most interesting observations. But the
cheery old wife came bravely to the rescue, and the minister was
continually floated into safety on the flow of her conversation. Now and
then, as he talked, he could catch a stealthy upflashing of Stephen
Gray's eye, as suddenly lowered again, that told him that the old man
was listening. But as an indication that they would g