"And we has both been bad enough in our times eh, Charlie?"
Charlie, surprised at the tender tone, repeated "Yaas."
"And you and me is mighty close?"
"Blame close, yaas."
"But you never know me to cheat, old man!"
"No,"--impassively.
"And do you think I would cheat you now?"
"I dunno," said Charlie. "I don't believe."
"Well, old man, old man,"--his voice began to quiver,--"I sha'n't cheat
you now. My God!--old man, I tell you--you better not make the trade!"
"Because for what?" asked Charlie in plain anger; but both looked
quickly toward the house! The Colonel tossed his hands wildly in the
air, rushed forward a step or two, and giving one fearful scream of
agony and fright, fell forward on his face in the path. Old Charlie
stood transfixed with horror. Belles Demoiselles, the realm of maiden
beauty, the home of merriment, the house of dancing, all in the tremor
and glow of pleasure, suddenly sunk, with one short, wild wail of
terror--sunk, sunk, down, down, down, into the merciless, unfathomable
flood of the Mississippi.
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