He wears a
semi-bandittical garb, which, with his craven features, presents his
character in all its repulsiveness. "You needn't reckon on that
courage o' yourn, old fellow; this citizen can go two pins above it.
If you wants a showin', just name the mark. I've seed ye times
enough,--how ye would not stand ramrod when a nigger looked lightning
at ye. Twice I seed a nigger make ye show flum; and ye darn't make
the cussed critter toe the line trim up, nohow," he mumbles out,
dropping his tumbler on the table, spilling his liquor. They are
Graspum's "men;" they move as he directs-carry out his plans of
trade in human flesh. Through these promulgators of his plans, his
plots, his desperate games, he has become a mighty man of trade.
They are all his good fellows-they are worth their weight in gold;
but he can purchase their souls for any purpose, at any price! "Ah,
yes, I see-the best I can do don't satisfy. My good fellows, you are
plum up on business, do the square thing; but you're becomin' a
little too familiar. Doing the nigger business is one thing, and
choosing company's another. Remember, gentlemen, I hold a position
in society, I do," says Graspum, all the dignity of his dear self
glowing in his countenance.
"I see! There's no spoilin' a gentleman what's got to be one by his
merits in trade. Thar's whar ye takes the shine out of us. Y'er
gentleman gives ye a right smart chance to walk into them ar' big
bugs what's careless,--don't think yer comin' it over 'em with a sort
o' dignity what don't 'tract no s'picion.
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