her laughing. Then, at the first symptom of a halt, she set him going again, "Has your Colonel got in a good humor yet? about the war?"
Zack laughed, "Yas'm, Cunnel kin sorter smile 'bout it sometimes, 'cept when he sees one o' dem biggety niggers in Washington. But 'scusin' dem biggety niggers, Cunnel say now he sho is glad he got tuk down sick, so everything passed off nice an' pleasant. I heerd Cunnel speak dem very words to a passel o' white gent'men in N'Yawk."
"All of that—that shooting must be in—what do they call it—the wild West?" Torreale put the question in a whisper to Castelleone. Then he spoke aloud to Zack. "Does he kill many people in duels?"
"No, suh, Cunnel wouldn't hurt a fly. But he don't git no chance. Nobody won't fight no mo' duels wid Cunnel—dey done quit dat long ago. When folks notices dat de Cunnel is gittin' riled, dey jes goes out in de woods an' climbs a tree. Dat makes Cunnel grin, an' he sez: 'It's all right, boys; you kin come down agin, an' les' be friends.' 'Tain't nary yaller dog in Vicksburg what can't make friends wid Cunnel, 'scusin' dem times when he's pestered. And sump'n' sho did pester de Cunnel las' night. He's terrible riled to-day."
"Is he very, very rich?" inquired Aurora.
"Cunnel—he got a plenty—but, lady, he gives
