"Captain, for God's sake run away. The Glicks are coming after you."
It was the voice of Ansy.
The captain dressed himself and opened the door. The girl was gone. The
moon was shining. The officer was not the man to run away. He closed
the door, took up a repeating rifle and opened a small window. He
waited. A few moments passed and he saw several men enter the clearing
in front of the cabin.
"What do you want here?" the captain shouted.
"We want you."
"What do you want with me?"
"Ask you some questions."
"You may ask questions, but don't come a step nearer."
"What did you come here for?"
"None of your business."
This reply created a commotion. The captain could hear the marauders
swearing. "We'll break down the door," one of them said as he stepped
forward. The next moment he had fallen to the ground. When the smoke
cleared away the captain saw that the rascals were gone, but there soon
came from the woods a shower of blazing arrows. It was time to get
away. The captain made a hole in the roof, crawled out, sprang to the
ground and hurried into the woods.
Early the next morning he went to Patterson's house. The family had
heard of the fight.
"You neenter be 'larmed now, dough, sah," said Alf, the negro, "caze da
foun' out dat you wuz er Newnited States ossifer, an' it skeered 'em
putty nigh ter def. You gin it ter one o' 'em putty hard, I ken tell
you. Shot him squar through, an' da doan think he gwine ter lib, da
doan, but dat ain't no matter, fur he wuz de wust one in de bunch. Ef
he dies, folks 'roun' yare will hol' er pra'r-meetin' thankin' de Lawd."
Patterson and his wife left the room, but the negro sat in the doorway.
"Ansy," said the captain, "I owe my life to you."
"Dat you does, sah," Alf replied.
The captain gave him a significant glance and again turned to the girl.
"Yes, you have saved my life, but that is not the cause of my
deep--deep (he glanced at the negro)--deep regard for you."
The girl made no reply. The captain could have killed the negro. "I
will ignore his black presence," the captain mused. He leaned over and
took the girl's hand.
"Ansy," said the negro, "w'en dis yare generman gits through wid yo'
han' I wants you ter sew er few buttons on dat ar hickory shirt o'
mine."
"You scoundrel," exclaimed the captain, springing to his feet, "how
dare you speak in such a manner to this young lady?"
"Why, boss," the negro replied, "what's de use'n makin' sich er great
'miration. Dat 'oman has been my wife fur putty nigh two years."
The captain's romance was ended.
OLD TILDY.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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