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Mr. Jackson, a bustling little man, who, between
the gossip of the place and his few guests, never seemed to have a
moment's quiet, soon entered. "Why, Mr. Martine," he exclaimed,
"we wasn't a-lookin' for you yet. News got around somehow that
your cousin was dyin' in Washington and that your weddin' was put
off too--Why! you look like a ghost, even in this light," and he
turned up the lamp.
Martine had told Nichol to stand by a window with his back to the
door. He now turned the key, pulled down the curtain, then drew
his charge forward where the light fell clear upon his face, and
asked, "Jackson, who is that?"
The landlord stared, his jaw fell from sheer astonishment, as he
faltered, "Captain Nichol!"
"Yes," said Nichol, with a pleased grin, "that's my new name! Jes'
got it, like this new suit o' clo's, bes' I ever had, doggoned ef
they ain't. My old name was Yankee Blank."
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Jackson; "is he crazy?"
"Look yere," cried Nichol; "don' yer call me crazy or I'll light
on yer so yer won't fergit it.


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