und so big he couldn't see his feet, and she
grabbed him by the neck and two legs, and befo' he knew where he was,
plump he went into a big coop, and the door was shut tight. He
hollered and squawked and flapped his wings terrible, but that didn't
make any diff'ence; in he went and there he stayed. He pushed with his
long legs, and stuck his head out through the slats, and did all he
could to get out, but it was no use. Next day Mammy Henny got a great
big knife--oh, an awful long knife----"

"How long?" asked the child.

"Oh, a dreadful long knife--'most as long as Jim, here"--and the
Colonel laid his hand on the boy's shoulder--"and she sharpened it on
a big grindstone, and Mammy Henny put some corn in the little trough
outside the slats, and when this bad, wicked turkey poked his head
out--WHACK--went the knife, and off went his head, and he was
dead--dead--dead!"

As the solemn words fell from his lips, the Colonel broke into a
laugh, and in a burst of tenderness threw his arms around the child
and kissed her as if he would like to eat her up.

Katy was clapping her hands now.

"Oh, I'm just _too_ glad. And the poor little chickies--served him
just right. I was afraid he'd get out and run away."

The Colonel stole a look at Jim. The scrap stood looking into the
fire, a wondering expression on his face. How much of the story was
truth and how much fiction evidently puzzled Jim.

During the telling everybody in the room, Fitz, Miss Nancy--all of us,
in fact,--had been watching Katy's delight and Jim's eager brown face,
turned to the Colonel, the whites of his eyes big as saucers.
Watching, too, the Colonel's impartial manner to both of his
listeners--black and white alike--the only distinction being that the
black boy stood, while the white child lay nestled in his arms.

Chad, as the story progressed, had crept up behind the Colonel's
chair, where he could hear without being seen, and was listening as
eagerly as if he were a boy again. He had often told me that his old
master, the Colonel's father, used to tell him and the Colonel stories
when they were boys together, but I had never seen the Colonel in the
role before.

When the allusion to the cigarettes escaped the Colonel's lips a smile
overspread Chad's visage, and a certain triumphant look crept into his
eyes. With the child's laughter still ringing through the room, Chad
tapped Jim on the arm, led him to one side, held his lean, wrinkled
finger wit