"'Why ain't it fair?' says he.

"''Cause,' says I, 'you didn't say "Shoo!" to de goose what was on de
table.'" [Footnote: This story, and the story of the "Postmaster" in
a preceding chapter, I have told for so many years and to so many
people, and with such varied amplifications, that I have long since
persuaded myself that they are creations of my own. I surmise, however,
that the basis of the "Postmaster" can be found in the corner of some
forgotten newspaper, and I know that the "One-Legged Goose" is as old
as the "Decameron".]

Chad laughed until he choked.

"And did he thrash you?"

"Marsa John? No, sah. He laughed loud as anybody; an' den dat night
he says to me as I was puttin' some wood on de fire:--

"'Chad, where did dat leg go?' An' so I ups an' tells him all about
Henny, an' how I was lyin' 'cause I was 'feared de gal would git hurt,
an' how she was on'y a-foolin', thinkin' it was my goose; an' den de
ole marsa look in de fire for a long time, an' den he says:--

"'Dat's Colonel Barbour's Henny, ain't it, Chad?'

"'Yes,' marsa, says I.

"Well, de next mawnin' he had his black horse saddled, an' I held the
stirrup for him to git on, an' he rode ober to de Barbour plantation,