"Ole marster, he raise' de whup, an' den he drapt it, an' broke out in a smile over he face, an' he chuck Marse Chan onder de chin, an' tu'n right roun' an' went away, laughin' to hisse'f; an' I heah 'im tellin' ole missis dat evenin', an' laughin' 'bout it."
Sam's vivid memory saw again the picture of the dawn-light on the river when Marse Chan and old Colonel Chamberlin fought their famous duel that grew out of the unfounded charges against Marse Chan's father made by the Colonel in a political speech. Sam could see again the early morning light on his young master's face, and could hear the ominous voice of one of the seconds saying, " 'Gentlemen, are you ready?"
"An' he sez, 'Fire, one, two'—an' ez he said 'one' ole Cun'l Chamb'lin raised he pistil an' shot right at Marse Chan. De ball went th'oo' his hat. I seen he hat sort o' settle on he head ez de bullit hit it, an' he jes' tilted his pistil up in de a'r an' shot—bang; an' ez de pistil went bang, he sez to Cun'l Chamb'lin, 'I mek you a present to yo' fam'ly, seh!'…
"But ole Cun'l Chamb'lin he nuver did furgive Marse Chan, an' Miss Anne she got mad too. Wimmens is mons'us onreasonable nohow. Dey 's jes' like a catfish: you can n tek hole on em like udder folks, an' when you gits 'm yo' can n' always hole 'em."
In sympathetic and picturesque language the old darky recounted the last meeting between Marse Chan and Miss Anne, as they stood together in the moonlight, and Sam over heard the fateful words of the implacable Southern woman, "'But I don' love yo'.' (Jes' dem th'ee wuds!) De wuds fall right slow—like dirt falls out a spade on a coffin when yo's buryin' anybody, an' seys, 'Uth to uth.' Marse Chan he jes' let her hand drap, an' he stiddy hisse'f 'g'inst de gate-pos', an' he did n' speak torekly."
Sam's account of how Marse Chan went to the war, of how in the tent he knocked down Mr. Ronny for speaking
