“God bless my soul!” exclaimed the Major, staring at me from under his black eyebrows, “he was but a child.”

“With an old head on his shoulders,” said the Colonel, and his banter made me flush.

The negro boy arriving with the toddy, Colonel Clark served out three generous gourdfuls, a smaller one for me.  “Your health, my friends, and I drink to a peaceful settlement.”

“You may drink to the devil if you like,” says Major Colfax, glaring at Tom.

“Come, Davy,” said Colonel Clark, when he had taken half the gourd, “let’s have the tale.  I’ll warrant you’re behind this.”

I flushed again, and began by stammering.  For I had a great fear that Major Colfax’s temper would fly into bits when he heard it.

“Well, sir,” said I, “I was grinding corn at the mill when the man came.  I thought him a smooth-mannered person, and he did not give his business.  He was just for wheedling me.  ‘And was this McChesney’s mill?’ said he.  ‘Ay,’ said I.  ‘Thomas McChesney?’ ‘Ay,’ said I. Then he was all for praise of Thomas McChesney.  ‘Where is he?’ said he.  ’He is at the far pasture,’ said I,’ and may be looked for any moment.’  Whereupon he sits down and tries to worm out of me the business of the mill, the yield of the land.  After that he begins to talk about the great people he knows, Sevier and Shelby and Robertson and Boone and the like.  Ay, and his intimates, the Randolphs and the Popes and the Colfaxes in Virginia.  ’Twas then I asked him if he knew Colonel Campbell of Abingdon.”

“And what deviltry was that?” demanded the Colonel, as he dipped himself more of the toddy.

“I’ll come to it, sir.  Yes, Colonel Campbell was his intimate, and ranted if he did not tarry a week with him at Abingdon on his journeys.  After that he follows me to the cabin, and sees Polly Ann and Tom and the children on the floor poking a ’possum.  ‘Ah,’ says he, in his softest voice, ‘a pleasant family scene.  And this is Mr. McChesney?’ ’I’m your man,’ says Tom.  Then he praised the mill site and the land all over again.  ‘Tis good enough for a farmer,’ says Tom.  ’Who holds under Henderson’s grant,’ I cried.  ’Twas that you wished to say an hour ago,’ and I saw I had caught him fair.”

“By the eternal!” cried Colonel Clark, bringing down his fist upon the table.  “And what then?”

I glanced at Major Colfax, but for the life of me I could make nothing of his look.

“And what did your man say?” said Colonel Clark.

“He called on the devil to bite me, sir,” I answered.  The Colonel put down his gourd and began to laugh.  The Major was looking at me fixedly.

“And what then?” said the Colonel.

“It was then Polly Ann called him a thief to take away the land Tom had fought for and paid for and tilled.  The man was all politeness once more, said that the matter was unfortunate, and that a new and good title might be had for a few skins.”