"I got the drop on you, Johnny Reb; you're boun' to admit that," he
said. "You didn't ketch Seth Perkins nappin'."
"I admit it. But why do you call me Johnny Reb?"
"Because that's what you are. You can't tell much about the color of
a man's coat after it's been through sech a big rain, but I know yourn
is gray. I ain't takin' no part in this war. They've got to fight it
as best they kin without me. I'm jest an innercent charcoal burner,
'bout the most innercent that ever lived, I guess, but atween you an' me,
Johnny Reb, my feelin's lean the way my state, Old Virginny, leans,
that is, to the South, which I reckon is lucky fur you."
Harry saw that the man had blue eyes and he saw, too, that they were
twinkling. He knew with infallible instinct that he was honest and
truthful.
"It's true," he said. "I'm a Southern soldier, and I'm in your hands."
"I see that you trust me, an' I think I kin trust you. Jest you wait
'til I put that hoss o' yourn in the lean-to behind the cabin."
He darted out of the door and returned in a minute shaking the water
from his body.
"That hoss feels better already," he said, "an' you will, too, soon.
Now, I shet this door, then I kindle up the fire ag'in, then you take
off your clothes an' put them an' yo'self afore the blaze.
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