The troopers brought Jake before the judge.
"Tryin' ter vote, is yer?"
"'Lowed I would."
"You hear 'bout de great sassieties de Gubment's fomentin' in dis country?"
"Yes, I hear erbout 'em."
"Is yer er member er de Union League?"
"Na-sah. I'd rudder steal by myself. I doan' lak too many in de party!"
"En yer ain't er No'f Ca'liny gemmen, is yer—yer ain't er member er de 'Red Strings'?"
"Na-sah, I come when I'se called—dey doan' hatter put er string on me—ner er block, ner er collar, ner er chain, ner er muzzle"
"Will yer 'sprain ter dis cote" railed Aleck.
"What cote? Dat ole army cote?" Jake laughed in loud peals that rang over the square.
Aleck recovered his dignity and demanded angrily:
"Does yer belong ter de Heroes ob Americky?"
"Na-sah. I ain't burnt nobody's house ner barn yet, ner hamstrung no stock, ner waylaid nobody atter night—honey, I ain't fit ter jine. Heroes ob Americky! Is you er hero?"
"Ef yer doan' b'long ter no s'iety," said Aleck with judicial deliberation, "what is you?"
"Des er ole-fashun all-wool-en-er-yard-wide nigger dat stan's by his ole marster 'cause he's his bes' frien', stays at home, en tends ter his own business."
"En yer pay no 'tenshun ter de orders I sent yer ter jine de League?"
