I swallowed
some very capital articles, though, when the big Bugaboo rammed me
down with the butt end of his rifle."
"Butt end! ram down!! my eye!!"
"O yes, by the way, my eye- here, Pompey, you scamp, screw it in!
Those Kickapoos are not so very slow at a gouge; but he's a belied
man, that Dr. Williams, after all; you can't imagine how well I see
with the eyes of his make."
I now began very clearly to perceive that the object before me was
nothing more nor less than my new acquaintance, Brevet Brigadier
General John A. B. C. Smith. The manipulations of Pompey had made, I
must confess, a very striking difference in the appearance of the
personal man. The voice, however, still puzzled me no little; but even
this apparent mystery was speedily cleared up.
"Pompey, you black rascal," squeaked the General, "I really do
believe you would let me go out without my palate."
Hereupon, the negro, grumbling out an apology, went up to his
master, opened his mouth with the knowing air of a horse-jockey, and
adjusted therein a somewhat singular-looking machine, in a very
dexterous manner, that I could not altogether comprehend. The
alteration, however, in the entire expression of the General's
countenance was instantaneous and surprising.
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