Part 38 (1/2)
”You are a dirty Yankee; and I'd rather hev a hundred n.i.g.g.e.rs in my house than one Yankee.”
”That's a matter of taste. If you are fond of negroes, I don't interfere with you for that.”
”Shet up!” snarled the farmer, highly displeased with the answer of the fugitive. ”I won't hev a Yankee in my house a single hour.”
”Very well; we won't argue the matter. You can do anything you please about it,” replied Somers with perfect indifference as he seated himself in a chair.
”Then yer kin leave.”
”I shall not leave; on the contrary, I shall remain here till night.”
”I reckon we'll see about that. I'll jest go down and call up two or three of them soldiers, and let 'em know you're a Yankee. I calkilate they'll tote you out of this rather sudden.”
”Go ahead!” replied Somers coolly.
”I reckon ye'll tell another story by the time they git here.”
”I reckon your son Tom will too,” added the unwelcome guest.
”See here, dad; that won't work, nohow,” interposed the hopeful son.
”They'll ketch me if yer do.”
”Exactly so,” added Somers, who, of course, had depended upon the situation of the rebel deserter for his own safety.
The farmer looked at his intractable guest, and then upon his dutiful son; and the idea tardily pa.s.sed through his dull brain that the soldiers would be just as dangerous to the welfare of the son as to the visitor.
Probably he had intended, when the military force came, to send Tom up the chimney, as he had done a dozen times before; but the secret was no longer in the keeping of the family alone.
”I see you understand the case perfectly,” said Somers, as he contemplated with intense satisfaction the blank dismay of both father and son. ”If you had the wisdom of Solomon, you couldn't comprehend it any better.”
”I reckon ye're about right, stranger,” replied the farmer.
”You can see now it is for your interest as well as mine that we make friends. Tom's safety and mine are both the same thing. The best you can do is to take good care of me to-day, and at night help me to make my way over to the other side of the river.”
”Then yer be a Yank?”
”I didn't say so. Tom can go with me if he likes. He will be safer there than here.”
”Tom?”
”If he is a deserter from the rebel army, he will be caught sooner or later, and be shot. He will be safe on the other side of the river.”
”Go over to the Yanks! He hates 'em wurs'n pizin. Don't yer, Tom?”
”Bet yer life I do, dad,” replied the hopeful son. ”I won't go over thar, nohow.”
”Just as he pleases about that. I only wanted to do him a friendly act.”
”Well, stranger, I don't mind keepin' yer to-day; but Tom can't go with yer.”
”Very well; then I will stay in this room; and, if the soldiers come, I can go up the chimney with Tom,” replied Somers. ”I'm tired and sleepy.