"No, no; not a bit of it," resounded several voices. "We do all the
dragwork with the niggers, and Graspum gets the tin."
"But he pays for the drink. Come, none of this bickering; we must
agree upon business, and do the thing up brown under the old
system," interrupted another.
"Hold! close that bread trap o' yourn," Romescos shouts at the top
of his voice. "You're only a green croaker from the piny woods,
where gophers crawl independent; you ain't seen life on the borders
of Texas. Fellers, I can whip any man in the crowd,--can maker the
best stump speech, can bring up the best logic; and can prove that
the best frightenin' man is the best man in the nigger business.
Now, if you wants a brief sketch of this child's history, ye can
have it." Here Romescos entered into an interesting account of
himself. He was the descendant of a good family, living in the city
of Charleston; his parents, when a youth, had encouraged his
propensities for bravery. Without protecting them with that medium
of education which assimilates courage with gentlemanly conduct,
carrying out the nobler impulses of our nature, they allowed him to
roam in that sphere which produces its ruffians. At the age of
fifteen he entered a counting-room, when his quick mercurial
temperament soon rendered him expert at its minor functions. Three
years had hardly elapsed when, in a moment of passion, he drew his
dirk, (a weapon he always carried) and, in making a plunge at his
antagonist, inflicted a wound in the breast of a near friend.
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