"But the gentleman is getting old. His eyes?—" Castelleone suggested.
"Lordee, suh; 'pears like de Cunnel is jes now gittin' de hang o' dem eyes. Dis comin' fall I looks fer 'im to be at his best."
"Has he killed anybody lately?" inquired Torreale.
"No, suh, 'cep in de war. Dat war wouldn't lasted no time ef Cunnel hadn't been tuk down sick, an' I had to tote 'im home. Whilst he was outen his head wid fever de s'render come. You jes ought to heerd Cunnel stomp an' cuss when dey tole 'im dat. Fust he say he war gwine to git right up from dat bed an' do his fightin' all over agin. Fer de longest time nobody couldn't swade him dat Marse Robert done s'rendered. He wouldn't never b'lieved dat till now, 'ceptin' his own ma say twuz so. Doctor Pauldin' kep' 'im full o' medicine so he'd lie down and be still. Ef twarn't fer dat, 'tain't no tellin' what moughter happened. Lordee, gent'men, you all oughter see de Cunnel ketch his bridle wid his teef an' take a six-shooter in each han' he'd go gallopin' round a saplin' an' put every one o' dem twelve bullets smack in de middle—dat warn't nothin'. Everybody done dat, or dey couldn't stay in his army."
Doris Stanton turned her face away and gazed out of the port-hole; she hated for Zack to see
