Kentucky -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Slavery -- United States -- Fiction
"Don't you fool yourself!" the old man exclaimed, and I saw that he was
deeply in earnest. "It won't be a tournament. It will look more like a
butcher's pen."
"But the blood-letting will be good for our swollen pride. It will give
us all a chance to strut like a turkey gobbler, and, Uncle Clem, it
will bring up the price of horses."
"By the hoofs, I hadn't thought of that. I never saw a young fellow
improve as fast as you do, Bob. In the last week or so you have said
several pretty good things. You are getting the proper grasp on truth;
and if a man has truth in one hand it needn't make any difference what
the other fellow has in both hands. Yes, sir, if a war should break
out, the horse market would hold up its head and snort. But say, Bob,
wasn't there a little love mixed up in what you were saying as I came
in?"
"Not a little, uncle. All."
"The girl you've been prancing around with lately?"
"Yes, if you wish to put it that way."
"High stepper, Bobbie; trot a mile in--I mean she's all right. Good
nostrils--shapely nose, you understand. Laughs well, teeth all sound,
and if I were a young fellow, I'd agree to pay her way into every show
that might come along, and make a fire for her every morning. Why, Dan,
you appear to be tickled nearly to death. I want to tell you that I
found that money on the bed where I dropped it. Talk about your heroes
of old, why--"
I interrupted him with a sign of real distress. "I must beg of you and
of everyone else, Mr. Clem, not to try to make a hero out of me. But
there is a hero under this roof--"
"Dan," Young Master broke in, "I have just sharpened my knife and I am
almost tempted to cut off your ears. Of what use is an ear when you
turn it from heart-felt praise to catch the unsympathetic tones of
average life? And now when anyone starts to compliment you upon your
heroism, I command you to keep your ears open and your mouth shut. You
did act the part of a hero. Shut up, not a word out of you."
Mr. Clem swore with a horsey oath that I was a hero, and I was
compelled to sit there and listen to his extravagant praise.
CHAPTER XXI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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