My Master's troop was composed for the most part of young men who had struggled with principle and with family opposition and who regarded it wise to meet in secret to prepare themselves for battle. In many families the dividing line ran as in our house, across the dinner table. Sometimes a "Confederate" and a "Federal" company would go through with their maneuvers in the same wood pasture; and on such occasions the strictest dignity and decorum were maintained, with never a jeer or idle word passing from one side to the other. The quarreling was indulged by older men and irresolute persons who had great bitterness, but not enough nerve to impel them into the ranks. From the moment when Young Master was forced openly to take his stand, his spirits seemed to rise, though my accustomed eye could sometimes see a sadness striving to pull his gayety down, as when he heard Old Master's voice or met him unexpectedly. Sometimes they saluted each other coldly as they passed, but often they appeared[Pg 271] almost to forget the difference lying like a shrouded corpse between them. One cool morning they met in the yard. By a silent agreement they no longer sat together at the table.  
"A crisp and beautiful day," said the old man, bowing. "By such a day I am always reminded of a shaggy dog we used to own—we called him Wolf. Do you remember him?"
 
"Yes," Young Master answered, his countenance illumined with a sudden light. "One of his eyes was brown and the other blue. He must have died long ago, for he seems now to trot around the outer rim of my recollection."
 
At this figure the old man was so much pleased that he laughed. "You were very young," he said, "but little taller than old Wolf's back;" and here he fell into a meditation, leaning against a locust tree. The dog was still in his mind when he spoke again. "On a frosty day he was always frisky. He believed that the chill in the air foretold a rabbit hunt; and frequently it did. He used to come to my door early at morning and scratch to awake me. And I think he treed the first 'possum you ever saw. Old Simon brought the 'possum to the house, and you asked him why there was no hair on his tail. This gave him an [Pg 272]opportunity to tell a story that I heard when I was a boy and which has been told in every negro cabin. The Lord made a raccoon and the devil was so taken with the work that he was resolved to imitate it. Well, he made a thing as near like a coon as he could, but was so disgusted at the appearance of the result that he seized the animal by the tail and swung him round to dash his brains out against the jamb, but the hair slipped off, the animal escaped with his life but with a hairless tail. Yes, sir, and I believed the story until I was nearly grown."
 
"I remember the story," said Bob, "though I don't recall the one particular 'possum used by Simon as an illustration. But I remember that Simon took me on his back one night, out into the woods where the dogs had treed one. It must have been long after Simon told the 'possum story, for I don't think that old Wolf went with us. He must have been dead."
 
"Yes, he was," the old man agreed. "I recollect the night. A coon was treed in an enormous oak, and the boys were a long time in cutting it down. Do you remember, Dan?"
 
"Yes, sir," I spoke up. "It was the night that Mr. Bill Putney was killed in town by Mr. Tom Ellis Gray."
 
[Pg 273]
 
"That's a fact," said the old man. "But how do you happen to associate the two events?"
 
"Why, when we came back to the house, a boy was waiting for you. They wanted you to come to town and go on a bond."
 
"But that couldn't have fastened it on your mind. What else was there? Out with it, sir."
 
"Why, Old Miss got mad at me for coming through the hall and slapped me off the front steps."
 
"Ah, that was it," he said, musing. "And it seems long ago, even to me, much longer than happenings thirty years before."
 
"Dan," said Young Master, "get my horse. But wait a moment. You may hitch up the buggy if you want to go over to Potter's with me."
 
"I don't care to go unless you would much rather have me," I replied.
 
"All right, then; saddle the horse."
 
"He has a love affair of his own, I am inclined to think," the old gentleman said, talking to Bob, but winking at me. "How about it, Dan?"
 
I had turned to go, but had halted and faced about. "A very empty love affair I am afraid, Master."
 
"Tut, sir, tut. There is no such thing as an empty[Pg 274] love affair if it's managed rightly. You are too faint-hearted. Do you remember what the poet said?"
 
This was the first time that he had addressed himself to what I conceived to be my learning, and I was flattered.
 
"You mean Pope's master, sir."
 
"Hang the scoundrel, to talk about Pope's master. He had no master, or if he had, he bought his freedom with his genius."
 
I was still flattered and I made bold to venture upon a criticism. "Not with his genius, but with his pains and his polish."
 
"Confound you, sir, go on and get that horse, you yellow scoundrel."
 
When I had led the horse round to the gate, Bob and the old man came out talking in easy good-humor.
 
"Your mother is mightily tickled," said Old Master. "She thinks you have drawn a prize. And so do I. She's a charming young woman, sir. But you have said nothing as to when the wedding is to take place."
 
Bob had put his foot in the stirrup to mount, but he took it out and stood there irresolute, as if he knew not what to do or say.
 
"You haven't said a word as to the time set for the marriage," Old Master repeated.
 
[Pg 275]
 
"No, sir. She is to wait—wait until I come home."
 
A dark shadow fell upon the old man's face, and without another word, he wheeled about and strode into the yard.
 
Old Miss came to the door and commanded me to bring a stick of wood to mend the parlor fire. When I went in with a log on my shoulder, I found Titine sitting by the fire, trying to amuse the little girl.
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