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 but one Henry Hooker; he is the one and only Henry. He said if I sold you my land, you'd put up a nigger school and bring in so many blackbirds you'd run me clean off my farm. He said it'd ruin the whole town, a nigger school would.”

Peter was astonished.

“Why, he didn't talk that way to me!”

“Natchelly, natchelly,” agreed the old cavalryman, dryly.—“Henry has a different way to talk to ever' man, Peter.”

“In fact,” proceeded Peter, “Mr. Hooker sold me the old Dillihay place in lieu of the deal I missed with you.”

Old Mr. Tomwit moved his quid in surprise.

“The hell he did!”

“That at least shows he doesn't think a negro school would ruin the value of his land. He owns farms all around the Dillihay place.”

Old Mr. Tomwit turned his quid over twice and spat thoughtfully.

“That your deed in your pocket?” With the air of a man certain of being obeyed he held out his hand for the blue manuscript cover protruding from the mulatto's pocket. Peter handed it over. The old gentleman unfolded the deed, then moved it carefully to and from his eyes until the typewriting was adjusted to his focus. He read it slowly, with a movement of his lips and a drooling of tobacco-juice. Finally he finished, remarked, “I be damned!” in a deliberate