tor commenced to feel my pulse, started way up here at the shoulder, an' kep' a-feelin' down. The minute he touched them three fingers, he said, 'Whack 'em off; he's got cholera in 'em.' No 'ifs' and 'ands' and 'buts' about it—Gippy soldiers whacked 'em off."
"Uh! Uh!" Zack grunted; "I heered you speak dem words 'bout three fingers o' cholera, but never knowed reel good what twuz." Guinea's lips twitched; he looked mighty mournful, and presently Zack voluntered in a subdued tone, "When us has quawnteen, de white folks sets aroun' de edge o' town wid shot guns, an' won't let nobody come in."
"That part's all right," Guinea admitted; "you wait 'til they git you at Alexandria—this evenin'. They stuffed me into one o' them tall fumigatin' boxes, like a coffin standing up on one end. Gippies was going to strangle me with sulphur and I couldn't speak a word o' their talk. I hollered out the grand hailin' sign o' distress—and a lodge brother heard it. He come pretty nigh not gettin' me out quick enough. That's what blistered me all over; look at my hands." "Lodge brudder?" Zack whispered eagerly, grasping the idea of help and protection. "Lodge brudder? I belongs."
Guinea nodded and winked, "Mighty good thing. Plenty brothers over here."
