“Mrs. Baron,” said her husband in strong irritation, “don’t you see there is nothing left for us to do?  No matter how things turn out, the presence of these Yankees involves what is intensely disagreeable.  If sister is right in regard to this man—­and I suppose I must admit she is till I know him better—­he has made it necessary for our own self-respect to treat him with courtesy.  Our pride will not permit us to accept this from him and make no return.  It may be Yankee cunning which led him to foresee this, for I suppose it is pleasing to many of the tribe to gain their ends by finesse.  Probably if this doesn’t secure them, he will try harsher methods.  Anyway, as long as he plays at the game of courtesy, we, as sister says, should teach him that we know what the word means.  The mischief is that you never can know just what a Yankee is scheming for or aiming at.”

“Well, brother, supposing your words are true, as I do not think they are in this instance, it is due to our dignity that we act like sincere people who are above even suspecting unworthy motives.  We do not compromise ourselves in the matter.  We only meet courtesy with courtesy, like well-bred people.”

“Well, so be it then.  In fact, I would like to ask this man what he and those he represents can hope to gain by invasion equalled only by that of the Goths and Vandals.”

CHAPTER XIV

A THREAT

The moment Chunk believed that Scoville could dispense with his services for a time he made his way promptly to the back veranda and gave a low, peculiar whistle which Zany recognized.  He had ceased in her estimation to be merely a subject for infinite jest.  Though not very advanced in the scale of civilization, she was influenced by qualities which appealed to her mind, and possessed many traits common to her sex.  His shrewdness and courage were making good his lack of inches.  Above all, he was in favor with the “head Linkum man,” and Zany belonged to that class ever ready to greet the rising sun.  While all this was true, she could not be herself and abandon her coquettish impulses and disposition to tease.  She came slowly from the dining-room and looked over Chunk’s head as if she could not see him.  Bent on retaliation, he stepped behind her, lifted her in his powerful arms and carried her on a full run to some screening shrubbery, the irate captive cuffing his ear soundly all the way.  Setting her down, he remarked quietly, “Now I reckon you kin fin’ me.”

“Yo’ wool git gray ‘fo’ you fin’ me agin,” she replied, making a feint of starting for the house.

“Berry well, Miss Zany.  I see you doan want ter be a free gyurl.  I’se tell Marse Scoville you no ’count niggah.”

“W’at you want anyhow, imperdence?”

“I wants sup’n ter eat.  Does you ’spects I kin ride all night en all day ter brung you freedom, en den not eben git a good word?  You ain’ fit fer freedom.  I’se tell some nachel-bawn fool ter gib you a yaller rib’on en den dere be two ob you.”