How are you getting on?"
"Fine, fine, squire," replied Whitticar; "the boys are ripe for anything.
They talk of burning down a nigger church."
"Not to-night--they must not do such a thing to-night--we are not ready for
that yet. I've made out a little list--some of the places on it they might
have a dash at to-night, just to keep their hands in." As Mr. Stevens
spoke, he fumbled in his pocket for the list in question, and was quite
surprised to be unable to discover it.
"Can't you find it, squire?" asked Whitticar.
"I must have lost; it on the way," replied Mr. Stevens. "I am sure I put it
in this pocket," and he made another search. "No use--I'll have to give it
up," said he, at length; "but where is McCloskey? I haven't seen him since
I came in."
"He came here this afternoon, very far gone; he had been crooking his elbow
pretty frequently, and was so very drunk that I advised him to go home and
go to bed; so he took another dram and went away, and I haven't seen him
since."
"That's bad, very bad--everything goes wrong this evening--I wanted him
to-night particularly." "Wouldn't the boys go out with you?" suggested
Whitticar.
"No, no; that wouldn't do at all. I mustn't appear in these things. If I'm
hauled up for participation, who is to be your lawyer--eh?"
"True for you," rejoined Whitticar; "and I'll just disperse the crowd as
soon as I can, and there will be one peaceable night in the district at any
rate.
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