“Howdy?” he drawled.

“Howdy?” responded Mr. Yancy.

“Shall you stop here?” asked Murrell, sinking his voice.  Yancy nodded.  “Can you put us up?” inquired Murrell, turning to the tavern-keeper.

“I reckon that’s what I’m here for,” said Slosson.  Murrell glanced about the empty yard.  “Slack,” observed Slosson languidly.  “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.

Presently Hannibal stole out into the yard.  He still held the bill in his hand, for he did not quite know how to dispose of his great wealth.  After debating this matter for a moment he knotted it carefully in one corner of his handkerchief.  But this did not quite suit him, for he untied the knot and looked at the bill again, turning it over and over in his hand.  Then he folded it carefully into the smallest possible compass and once more tied a corner of his handkerchief about it, this time with two knots instead of one; these he afterward tested with his teeth.

“I ’low she won’t come undone now!” he said, with satisfaction.  He stowed the handkerchief away in his trousers pocket, ramming it very tight with his fist.  He was much relieved when this was done, for wearing a care-free air he sauntered across the yard and established himself on the top rail of the corn-field fence.

The colored boy, armed with an ax, appeared at the woodpile and began to chop in the desultory fashion of his race, pausing every few seconds to stare in the direction of his white compatriot, who met his glance with reserve.  Whereupon Mr. Slosson’s male domestic indulged in certain strange antics that were not rightly any part of woodchopping.  This yet further repelled Hannibal.