While the point stands thus nicely poised between their logic, Romescos rushes into the office, and, as if to surprise M’Fadden, extends his hand, smiling and looking in his face gratefully, as if the very soul of friendship incited him.  “Mighty glad to see ye, old Buck!” he ejaculates, “feared ye war going to kick out.”

The appalled man stands for a few seconds as unmoved as a statue; and then, turning with a half-subdued smile, takes the hand of the other, coldly.

“Friends again! ain’t we, old boy?” breaks forth from Romescos, who continues shaking his hand, at the same time turning his head and giving a significant wink to a clerk at one of the desks.  “Politics makes bad friends now and then, but I always thought well of you, Mack!  Now, neighbour, I’ll make a bargain with you; we’ll live as good folks ought to after this,” Romescos continues, laconically.  His advance is so strange that the other is at a loss to comprehend its purport.  He casts doubting glances at his wily antagonist, seems considering how to appreciate the quality of such an unexpected expression of friendship, and is half inclined to demand an earnest of its sincerity.  At the same time, and as the matter now stands, he would fain give his considerate friend wide space, and remain within a proper range of etiquette until his eyes behold the substantial.  He draws aside from Romescos, who says tremblingly:  “Losing that preacher, neighbour, was a hard case-warn’t it?  You wouldn’t a’ catched this individual buyin’ preachers-know too much about ’em, I reckon!  It’s no use frettin, though; the two hundred dollars ’ll bring him.  This child wouldn’t want a profitabler day’s work for his hound dogs.”  Romescos winks at the vender, and makes grimaces over M’Fadden’s shoulder, as that gentleman turns and grumbles out,—­“He warranted him in every partikler; and running away is one of a nigger’s partiklers?”

“My pertinacious friend!” exclaims the vender, turning suddenly towards his dissatisfied customer, “seeing you are not disposed to comprehend the necessities of my business, nor to respect my position, I will have nothing further to say to you upon the subject-not another word, now!” The dignified gentleman expresses himself in peremptory tones.  It is only the obtuseness of his innate character becoming unnecessarily excited.

Romescos interposes a word or two, by way of keeping up the zest; for so he calls it.  Things are getting crooked, according to his notion of the dispute, but fightin’ won’t bring back the lost.  “’Spose ye leaves the settlin on’t to me?  There’s nothing like friendship in trade; and seeing how I am up in such matters, p’raps I can smooth it down.”

“There’s not much friendship about a loss of this kind; and he was warranted sound in every particular!” returns the invincible man, shaking his head, and affecting great seriousness of countenance.

“Stop that harpin, I say!” the vender demands, drawing himself into a pugnacious attitude; “your insinuations against my honour aggravate me more and more.”