“I shall never forget his serenity. As we passed along, the negroes were lining the roads on their way homeward, and were shouting and laughing among themselves; and the greetings they gave us as we passed were as civil and good-humored as if no unpleasantness had ever existed. A little after we set out, one man, who had been walking very fast just ahead of us, and had been keeping in advance all the time, came close to Halloway's stirrup and said something to him in an undertone. All I caught was, layin' up something against him.' “'That 's all right, Dick; let him lay it up, and keep it laid up,' Halloway laughed. “'Dat 's a bad feller!' the negro insisted, uneasily, his voice kept in an undertone. 'You got to watch him. I'se knowed him from a boy.' “He added something else in a whisper which I did not catch. “'All right; certainly not! Much obliged to you, Dick. I 'll keep my eyes open. Goodnight.' “'Good-night, gent'men'; and the negro fell back and began to talk with the nearest of his companions effusively. “'Who is that?' I asked, for the man had kept his hat over his eyes. “'That 's Dick Winchester. You remember that old fellow 't used to belong to old Mr. Eaton--lived down in the pines back o' me, on the creek 't runs near my place. His wife died the year of the big snow.' “It was not necessary for him to explain further. I remembered the negro for whom Hal-loway had ridden through the storm that night. “I asked Halloway somewhat irrelevantly, if he carried a pistol. He said no, he had never done so. “'Fact is, I 'm afraid of killin' somebody. And I don't want to do that, I know. Never could bear to shoot my gun even durin' o' the war, though I shot her 'bout as often as any of 'em, I reckon--always used to shut my eyes right tight whenever I pulled the trigger. I reckon I was a mighty pore soldier,' he laughed. I had heard that he was one of the best in the army. “'Besides, I always feel sort o' cowardly if I 've got a pistol on. Looks like I was afraid of somebody--an' I ain't. I 've noticed if two fellows have pistols on and git to fightin', mighty apt to one git hurt, maybe both. Sort o' like two dogs growling--long as don't but one of 'em growl it's all right. If don't but one have a pistol, t' other feller always has the advantage and sort o' comes out top, while the man with the pistol looks mean.' “I remember how he looked in the dim moonlight as he drawled his quaint philosophy.