CHAPTER VII.

DAMON AND PYTHIAS.


After his soliloquy in regard to his numerous names, as given in our
first chapter, Nimbus turned away from the gate near which he had
been standing, crossed the yard in front of his house, and entered
a small cabin which stood near it.

"Dar! 'Liab," he said, as he entered and handed the paper which he
had been examining to the person addressed, "I reckon I'se free
now. I feel ez ef I wuz 'bout half free, ennyhow. I wuz a sojer,
an' fought fer freedom. I've got my house an' bit o' lan', wife,
chillen, crap, an' stock, an' it's all mine. An' now I'se done been
registered, an' when de 'lection comes off, kin vote jes' ez hard
an' ez well an' ez often ez ole Marse Desmit. I hain't felt free
afore--leastways I hain't felt right certain on't; but now I reckon
I'se all right, fact an' truth. What you tinks on't, 'Liab?"

The person addressed was sitting on a low seat under the one window
which was cut into the west side of the snugly-built log cabin. The
heavy wooden shutter swung back over the bench. On the other side
of the room was a low cot, and a single splint-bottomed chair stood
against the open door. The house contained no other furniture.

The bench which he occupied was a queer compound of table, desk,
and work-bench. It had the leathern seat of a shoemaker's bench,
except that it was larger and wider. As the occupant sat with his