'And you are all black,' said the other, as he withdrew the pipe from
his mouth, and emitted a copious puff of tobacco smoke. 'The hat that
covers your numskull is black, your beard is black, your coat is black,
your vest is black, your small-clothes, your stockings, your shoes, all
are black. In a word, Doctor Poundtext, you are----' 'What am I, sir?'
said the parson, bursting with rage. 'Ay, what is he, sir?' rejoined the
schoolmaster. 'He is a black coat,' said the stranger, with a
contemptuous sneer, 'and you are a pedagogue.' This sentence was
followed by a profound calm."

The stranger goes to the stable, and returns.

"The appearance of the Red Man again acted like a spell on the voices of
the company. The parson was silent, and by a natural consequence his
echo, the schoolmaster, was silent also; none of the others felt
disposed to say any thing. The meeting was like an assemblage of
quakers. ...

"'Who can this man be?' 'What does he want here?' 'Where is he from, and
whither is he bound?' Such were the inquiries which occupied every mind.
Had the object of their curiosity been a brown man, a black man, or even
a green man, there would have been nothing extraordinary; and he might
have entered the inn and departed from it as unquestioned as before he
came. But to be a Red Man! There was in this something so startling that
the lookers-on were beside themselves with amazement. The first to break
this strange silence was the parson. 'Sir,' said he, 'we have been
thinking that you are----' 'That I am a conjurer, a French spy, a
travelling packman, or something of the sort,' observed the stranger.
Doctor Poundtext started back on his chair, and well he might; for these
words, which the Man in Red had spoken, were the very ones he himself