," resumed Pierson, "dey
knows Gregor gwine fo'ce 'em drink; dey knows Chartrand gwine make it
hot fu' 'em art'ards ef dey does. Gregor he spie me jis' I'se tryin'
glide frough de doo' an he call out, 'Yonda a gemmen f'um
Place-du-Bois; Pierson, come heah; you'se good 'nough tu drink wid any
w'ite man, 'cept me; you come heah, take drink wid Mr. Louis
Chartrand.'

"I 'lows don't wants no drink, much 'bleege, Marse Gregor'. 'Yis, you
wants drink,' an' 'id dat he draws he pistol. 'Mista Chartrand want
drink, too. I done owe Mista Chartrand somethin' dis long time; I'se
gwine pay 'im wid a treat,' he say. Chartrand look like he on fiar, he
so red, he so mad, he swell up same like ole bull frog."

"Dat make no odd," chuckled Aunt Belindy, "he gwine drink wid nigga ef
Gregor say so."

"Yes, he drink, Lord, only he cuss me slow, an' 'low he gwine break my
skull."

"Lordy! I knows you was jis' a trimblin', Mista Pierson."

"Warn't trimblin' no mo' 'en I'se trimblin' dis minute, an' you drap
dat 'Mista.' Den w'at you reckon? Yonda come Pere Antoine; he come an'
stan' in de doo' an' he hole up he han'; look like he ain't 'feard no
body an' he 'low: 'Gregor Sanchun, how is you dar' come in dis heah
peaceful town frowin' of it into disorda an' confusion? Ef you isn't
'feard o' man; hasn't you got no fear o' God A'mighty wat punishes?' "

"Gregor, he look at 'im an' he say cool like, 'Howdy, Pere Antoine;
how you come on?' He got he pistol w'at he draw fu' make Chartrand
drink wid dis heah nigga,--he foolin' wid it an' a rubbin' it up and
down he pants, an' he 'low 'Dis a gemmen w'at fit to drink wid a
Sanchun--w'at'll you have?' But Pere Antoine, he go on makin' a su'mon
same like he make in chu'ch, an' Gregor, he lean he two arm back on de
counta--kine o' smilin' like, an' he say, 'Chartrand, whar dat bottle
I orda you put up?' Chartrand bring de bottle; Gregor, he put de
bottle in he coat pocket wat hang on he arm--car'ful.

"Pere Antoine, he go on preachin', he say, 'I tell you dis young man,
you 'se on de big road w'at leads tu hell.'

"Den Gregor straight he se'f up an' walk close to Pere Antoine an' he
say, 'Hell an' damnation dar ain't no sich a place. I reckon she know;
w'at you know side o' her. She say dar ain't no hell, an' ef you an'
de Archbishop an' de Angel Gabriel come along an' 'low dey a hell, you
all liars,' an' he say, 'Make way dah, I'se a gittin' out o' heah; dis
ain't no town fittin' to hol' a Sanc