"'T is nothin' else, simlin-head."
"Marse Dave Henry," the negro yelled, "run here an' look at dish yer ginnywine coffee! Dey 's nuff coffee dar fer ter make mistiss happy de balance er her days. Some done spill out!" he exclaimed. "Boss, kin I have dem what 's on de groun'?"
"Take 'em," said O'Halloran, "an' much good may they do you."
"One, two, th'ee, fo', fi', sick, sev'm." The negro counted the grains as he picked them up. "O Marse Dave Henry, run here an' look! I got sev'm grains er ginnywine coffee. I 'm gwine take um ter mistiss."
The Irishman regarded the negro with curiosity. Then taking the dead branch of a tree he drew a line several yards in length between himself and Kilpatrick.
"D 'ye see that line there?" he said to the negro.
"Dat ar mark? Oh, yasser, I sees de mark."
"Very well. On that side of the line you are in slavery—on this side the line you are free."
"Who? Me?"
"Who else but you?"
"I been hear talk er freedom, but I ain't
