“They’re talkin’ about every one of ’em gittin’ forty acres and a mule, Doctor,” said little Andy, with a twinkle in his eye; but a grim look about his mouth. “The biggest men down thar are that Jim Sherwood of yours; that trick-doctor nigger of Miss’ Gray’s, Moses Swift, and a tall, black nigger of General Legaie’s, named Nicholas Ash. They’re doin’ most of the talkin’. Well, I ain’t got but eighty acres—jest about enough for two of ’em,” added Andy, the grim lines deepening about his mouth; “but I’m mighty sorry for them two as tries to git ’em—I told Hiram so.” The twinkle had disappeared from his blue eyes, like the flash on a ripple, and the eyes were as quiet and gray as the water after the ripple had passed. “Hiram, he’s the chief adviser and friend of the new man. I thought he was hatchin’ something. He was down there inside of the office—looked like a shot cat when I come in—said he was tryin’ to git some hands. You watch him. He’s a goin’ over. He was at the nigger meetin’-house th’ other night. I heard some white man was there; but I couldn’t git at who ’twas till old Weev’ly let it out.” Dr. Cary told of his conversation with Still a few days before; but the little Sergeant was not convinced. “Whenever he talks, that’s the time you know he ain’t goin’ to do it,” he said. Still’s attentions to Miss Delia Dove had not only quickened Andy’s jealousy, but had sharpened his suspicion generally, and he had followed his movements closely. Still had quickly become assured that the two young soldiers in command at the county seat were not the kind for him to impress. And when the new officer came he had at once proceeded to inspect him. Leech was expecting him; for though they had never met, Still had already secretly placed himself in communication with Krafton, the Provost-Marshal in the city. The new Provost was not pleasing to look on. He was a man spare in figure and with a slight stoop in his shoulders—consequent perhaps on a habit he had of keeping his gaze on the ground. He had mild blue eyes, and a long, sallow face, with a thin nose, bad teeth, and a chin that ended almost in a point. He rarely showed temper. He posed rather as a good-natured, easy-going fellow, cracking jokes with anyone who would listen to him, and indulging in laughter which made up in loudness what it lacked in merriment. When he walked, it was with a peculiar, sinuous motion. The lines in his face gave him so sour an expression that Steve Allen, just after he moved to the court-house to practise law, said that Leech, from his look, must be as great a stench in his own nostrils as in those of other people. This speech brought Steve Leech’s undying hatred, though he veiled it well enough at the moment and simply bided his time.