“Now, Jesse,” said Den Bardun, “we’ve been stooped mighty nigh double all our lives, and our fathers and grandfathers before us, and some of their backs is getting stiff. It’s well enough to make a bow, but some folks don’t enjoy being rid over, and I reckon _yo’r one_.” “I can’t stay to hear yo’ talk, and if yo’ a’n’t men enough to go and help yo’ neighbors when they is getting jist _slayed_, I’m gwine to find some _men_ somewhar; and if ever yo’ wants help like us, to save yo’ life and property, maybe yo’ll get it. I hope so,” and Sterns hastened away. Uncle Jesse paced up and down the room for some moments, with his arms folded and his chin upon his breast; while Den Bardun leaned against the door-post, and watched alternately this neighbor and the chickens a hen was endeavoring to call into a coop in which she was confined near the door. “It _seems_ hard! It does seem hard!” said Roome, without raising his eyes from the floor, “and it seems cruel like, I know it does. But it is _right_! _I know it is right!_ and I feel it right in my breast,” looking up with an assured manner, and striking his broad chest with his palms. “Sit down, Den, sit down. What do you think about this doings?” “I believe it’s a mighty hard affair, and I’m afraid it’s a big one; and I don’t believe it’s all about the 4th of July scrape, either. It’s more like the democratic party, and they’re playing off that it’s the militia.” “What makes you think so, Dan?” “Well, Deacon Atwood, he says to me the other day, says he, “All the officers of the Republican party has got to be killed out, shor;” and I asked him what for?” “Was he talking of the colored officers or of all of ’em?” _White_ and _black_, making no exceptions. He says, “we’re going to have this election, and the only way we can get it, will be to kill out the leading men, and then the ignorant men will do right.” “Mr. Atwood came here the other day,” said Jesse, “I’d hired Mott Erkrap, you know, to work for me, and he left me because I wouldn’t give him 4th of July; and he wanted to come back, and I wouldn’t take him back. The Deacon came concerning him, and he said then that the Republican party, before long, was going to ketch the Devil, (Uncle Jesse lowered his voice as if in awe of his Satanic Majesty.) Says he “There’ll be worse than seventy-seven claps of thunder striking right against them. Of course we was astonished at his speaking so rash and ’reverent right here in the yard. We was all very much astonished, me and my wife, and Mott Erkrap, and a stranger from the city that came with Mott, at his speaking so rash and ’revrent at what would happen to the Republican party in short time.” “Hark!” exclaimed Aunt Phebe, raising her hands. “Oh, Lord! they be a killing ’em!” The sound of small arms came unmistakably upon the evening air. “Oh, no! It takes more’n one bird to make a spring. It a’nt so strange to hear a gun fire!” said Uncle Jesse; at the same time approaching the door to listen.