"And my uncle before Richmond; John Eddring, my father, long before,
at Ball's Bluff."

"I was in some of that fighting myself," said Colonel Blount, rubbing
his chin. "I was a boy, just a boy. Well, it's all over now. Come on
in. I'm mighty glad to see you." Yet the two, without plan, had now
wandered over toward the shade of the evergreen, and presently they
seated themselves on the board-pile.

"Well, Colonel Blount," said the visitor, "I reckon you must have had
a good hunt."

"Yes, sir, there ain't a b'ah in the Delta can get away from those
dogs. We run this fellow straight on end for ten miles; put him
across the river twice, and all around the Black Bayou, but the dogs
kept him hot all the time, I'm telling you, for more than five miles
through the cane, clean beyond the bayou."

"Who got the shot, Colonel?" asked Eddring--a question apparently
most unwelcome.

"Well, I ought to have had it," said Blount, with a frown of
displeasure. "The fact is, I did take a flying chance from horseback,
when the b'ah ran by in the cane half a mile back of where they
killed him. Somehow I must have missed. A little while later I heard
another shot, and found that young gentleman there, Mr. Decherd, had
beat me in the ride. But man! you ought to have heard that pack for
two hours through the woods. It certainly would have raised your hair
straight up. You ever hunt b'ah, sir?"