“My life er me!” exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann, bristling up, “does you-all ’speck I’m gwine ter let um take Hamp out dat away? De fus’ man come ter my door, less’n it’s one er you-all, I’m gwine ter fling a pan er hot embers in his face ef de Lord’ll gi’ me de strenk. An’ ef dat don’t do no good, I’ll scald um wid b’ilin’ water. You hear dat, don’t you?” “Minervy Ann,” said the Major, sweetly, “have you ever heard of the Ku-Klux?” “Yasser, I is!” she exclaimed with startling emphasis. She stopped still and gazed hard at the Major. In response, he merely shrugged his shoulders and raised his right hand with a swift gesture that told the whole story. “Name er God! Marse Tumlin, is you an’ Marse Bolivar and dish yer young genterman gwine ter set down here flat-footed and let dem Kukluckers scarify Hamp?” “Why should _we_ do anything? You’ve got everything arranged. You’re going to singe ’em with hot embers, and you’re going to take their hides off with scalding water. What more do you want?” The Major spoke with an air of benign resignation. Aunt Minervy Ann shook her head vigorously. “Ef dey er de Kukluckers, fire won’t do um no harm. Dey totes der haids in der han’s.” “Their heads in their hands?” cried Colonel Blasengame, excitedly. “Dat what dey say, suh,” replied Aunt Minervy Ann. Colonel Blasengame looked at his watch. “Tumlin, I’ll have to ask you to excuse me to-night,” he said. “I—well, the fact is, I have a mighty important engagement up town. I’m obliged to fill it.” He turned to Aunt Minervy Ann: “Did I understand you to say the Ku-Klux carry their heads in their hands?” “Dat what folks tell me. I hear my own color sesso,” replied Aunt Minervy Ann. “I’d be glad to stay with you, Tumlin,” the Colonel declared; “but—well, under the circumstances, I think I’d better fill that engagement. Justice to my family demands it.” “Well,” responded Major Perdue, “if you are going, I reckon we’d just as well go, too.” “Huh!” exclaimed Aunt Minervy Ann, “ef gwine’s de word, dey can’t nobody beat me gittin’ way fum here. Dey may beat me comin’ back, I ain’t ’sputin’ dat; but dey can’t beat me gwine ’way. I’m ol’, but I got mighty nigh ez much go in me ez a quarter-hoss.” Colonel Blasengame leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling. “It seems to me, Tumlin, we might compromise on this. Suppose we get Hamp to come in here. Minervy Ann can stay out there in the kitchen and throw a rock against the back door when the Ku-Klux come.” Aunt Minervy Ann fairly gasped. “_Who? Me?_ I’ll die fust. I’ll t’ar dat do’ down; I’ll holler twel ev’ybody in de neighborhood come a-runnin’. Ef you don’t b’lieve me, you des try me. I’ll paw up dat back-yard.” Major Perdue went to the back door and called Hamp, but there was no answer. He called him a second time, with the same result. “Well,” said the Major, “they’ve stolen a march on us. They’ve come and carried him off while we were talking.”