"Yes, sir, slack's the only name for it." It was
understood he referred to the state of trade. He looked from one
to the other of the two men. As his eyes rested on Murrell, that
gentleman raised the first three fingers of his right hand. The
gesture was ever so little, yet it seemed to have a tonic effect
on Mr. Slosson. What might have developed into a smile had he
not immediately suppressed it, twisted his bearded lips as he
made an answering movement. "Eph, come here, you!" Slosson
raised his voice. This call brought a half-grown black boy from
about a corner of the tavern, to whom Murrell relinquished his
horse.
"Let's liquor," said the captain over his shoulder, moving off in
the direction of the bar.
"Come on, Nevvy!" said Yancy following, and they all entered the
tavern.
"Well, here's to the best of good luck!" said Murrell, as he
raised his glass to his lips.
"Same here," responded Yancy. Murrell pulled out a roll of
bills, one of which he tossed on the bar. Then after a moment's
hesitation he detached a second bill from the roll and turned to
Hannibal.
"Here, youngster--a present for you;" he said good-naturedly.
Hannibal, embarrassed by the unexpected gift, edged to his Uncle
Bob's side.
"Ain't you-all got nothing to say to the gentleman?" asked Yancy.
"Thank you, sir," said the boy.
"That sounds a heap better. Let's see--why, if it ain't ten
dollars--think of that!" said Yancy, in surprise.
"Let's have another drink," suggested Murrell.
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