"Take ye up, there," the other suddenly interrupts, as if he has
drawn the point from his antagonist, and is prepared to sustain the
principle, having brought to his aid new ideas from the deepest
recesses of his logical mind. Grasping the vender firmly by the arm,
he looks him in the face, and reminds him that the runaway part of
niggers belongs to the heels, and not to the head.
The vender exhibits some discomfiture, and, at the same time, a
decided unwillingness to become a disciple of such philosophy. Nor
is he pleased with the familiarity of his importuning customer,
whose arm he rejects with a repulsive air.
There has evidently become a very nice and serious question, of
which Mr. M'Fadden is inclined to take a commonsense view. His
opponent, however, will not deviate from the strictest usages of
business. Business mentioned the mental qualities of the property,
but warranted only the physical,--hence the curious perplexity.
While the point stands thus nicely poised between their logic,
Romescos rushes into the office, and, as if to surprise M'Fadden,
extends his hand, smiling and looking in his face gratefully, as if
the very soul of friendship incited him. "Mighty glad to see ye, old
Buck!" he ejaculates, "feared ye war going to kick out."
The appalled man stands for a few seconds as unmoved as a statue;
and then, turning with a half-subdued smile, takes the hand of the
other, coldly.
"Friends again! ain't we, old boy?" breaks forth from Romescos, who
continues shaking his hand, at the same time turning his head and
giving a significant wink to a clerk at one of the desks.
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