"
"Yes, I heard you were at my house, but I was asleep upstairs, and
didn't know you'd be'n there till you'd gone."
"Your man told me you had gone to the capital for two weeks."
"My man? Oh, you mean Turner! Well, I reckon you must have riled
Turner somehow, and he thought he'd have a joke on you."
"I don't quite see the joke," said the colonel, restraining his
displeasure. "But that's ancient history. Can we sit down over here in
the shade and talk by ourselves for a moment?"
Fetters followed the colonel out of doors, where they drew a couple of
chairs to one side, and the colonel stated the nature of his business.
He wished to bargain for the release of a Negro, Bud Johnson by name,
held to service by Fetters under a contract with Clarendon County. He
was willing to pay whatever expense Fetters had been to on account of
Johnson, and an amount sufficient to cover any estimated profits from
his services.
Meanwhile Fetters picked his teeth nonchalantly, so nonchalantly as to
irritate the colonel. The colonel's impatience was not lessened by the
fact that Fetters waited several seconds before replying.
"Well, Mr. Fetters, what say you?"
"Colonel French," said Fetters, "I reckon you can't have the nigger."
"Is it a matter of money?" asked the colonel. "Name your figure. I
don't care about the money. I want the man for a personal reason."
"So do I," returned Fetters, coolly, "and money's no object to me.
I've more now than I know what to do with.
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